OF WOMEN AND WITCHES or WHY DON'T PEOPLE EVER LEARN?
by Chick Feed
Summary: Full case fic. When the wife of an old friend calls, Bobby sends the boys to investigate and, if necessary, take on a powerful adversary, one neither hunter is very keen to face. Assistance is offered from an unexpected source, at a cost. Soon Sam has to balance the cost against a greater chance of saving Dean, or choose to face their foe alone, increasing the risk to both of them.
1. Chapter 1

**Please****_ read A.N. It's not as long as it looks and it clarifies why this story is as it is._**

**_A.N._**_ Welcome to my new multi-chapter Supernatural story. This is a __**full case fic**__ and I have intentionally not gone diving straight into action and high drama.  
__I wanted to treat this as a complete story, beginning right at the start with the events which, down the line, lead to a case for the boys.  
__I also wanted to focus on the characters and their interactions more than I usually do, as well as the processes the characters would possibly have to go through before setting off on the actual field work.  
__I don't intend to rush this (not by my standards anyway), I want to let it take as long as it takes to complete. __**Don't worry, that might mean weeks, but it certainly won't be**__** months.  
**__It might be selfish, but I think I'm writing this one as much for myself as anything, including designing the cover illustration.  
_**_That said, I hope that there are those of you who will join me in accompanying the boys on this journey, and I hope that we can chat along the way.  
_****_Chick._**

**P.S. If anyone wants to offer to beta this for me, I'd love to hear from you!**

* * *

**OF WOMEN AND WITCHES or WHY DON'T PEOPLE EVER LEARN?**

**Prologue**

The women huddled around chatting to one another whilst, between them, two of their group carried a sizeable wicker hamper out of the house, setting it down on the lawn next to a long picnic table. The table itself was covered with a cheerily hand embroidered cloth and held a variety of sandwiches and home made cup cakes, along with half a dozen or so bottles of wine, plastic wine glasses at the ready.

The hamper carriers straightened and turned to face the other eleven women. One, a woman in her 50's who certainly fit the description "handsome", took a step forward and clapped her hands together, bringing to an end the chat.  
"Thank you ladies...It's lovely to see you all tonight and I'm sure you will join me in showing your appreciation to Clare who has provided the refreshments for this month. Clare, you bad girl! You're absolutely about to ruin my diet you know!"  
Clare smiled and bobbed a jokey little curtsy in response to the applause of her companions. The speaker waffed both hands to bring the group to order again.  
"We also owe a _huge_ thank you to Sandra."  
As she spoke, the woman beckoned forward the second hamper carrier to come and stand beside her.  
"As you know, our Sandra here has been hard at work since our last little gathering. Isn't that right Sandra?"  
Sandra, a petit, shy looking woman in her 40's blushed and nodded.  
"I'm delighted to announce that all her hard work has paid off and there is a robe for everyone in the hamper. One size fits all, right Sandra?"  
Sandra smiled,  
"I'm hoping so Ruth."  
Ruth gave a short laugh and laid a hand on Sandra's shoulder.  
"Let's put our hands together for Sandra ladies."  
The applause this time was accompanied by a couple of loud whistles.  
"Right. As you all know, we've got an _extremely_ exciting agenda this evening, so I'm declaring the refreshments open. Could each one of you collect your robe from Sandra and be ready to start the meeting proper in 20 minutes? Thank you ladies."  
A smattering of applause greeted Ruth's announcement and the chatter started up again as the women began moving toward the buffet.

Barbara grinningly gave her friend a nudge with her elbow.  
"I didn't know you could whistle like that Becky!"  
Becky returned Barbara's grin.  
"Oh...you know. It's just another one of my amazing talents. Did you see Ruth though? I'm thinking she's had a dose of the old Botox since last month. What do you reckon?"  
Barbara glanced over her shoulder toward Ruth who was now stood with Sandra by the hamper handing out robes.  
"She's definitely lost some of those stress lines. Course, that doesn't necessarily mean she's had Botox. _Maybe_ she's secretly gone and found herself a younger man to, you know, _de-stress_ with."

Becky's eyebrows motivated upwards and her mouth formed a small "o". She moved closer to her friend.  
"Barbara Harlison! Have you heard something I haven't?"  
Barbara shook her head as she burst into laughter.  
"No...but you should've seen your face! It was priceless!"  
Before Becky could answer, Ruth's voice carried over to the two women.  
"Barbara? Becky dear? You're huddled together like naughty school girls. Come over here and get your robes darlings."  
Barbara and Becky answered in unison,  
"Yes Ruth."

Becky fought her way into her robe. She grimaced at the feel of the cheap quality satin, the static it created already playing havoc with her hair. She held out her arms and twirled around in front of Barbara.  
"Well? What do you think? Should I wear this to the golf club's annual ball?"  
Barbara stood back, a serious expression on her face as she studiously looked her friend up and down, finally she pronounced her opinion.  
"I would say most _definitely_ you should go ahead and wear it...if you want to be banned for life that is."  
Becky stopped her posing and looked down at herself.  
"I don't know about you, but somehow I expected them to be black, or scarlet, or even dark purple; but urine yellow? Soooo not my colour."  
Barbara began to pull her own robe over her head as carefully as she was able.  
"Pat told me that Sandra got a cheap deal on it, half the sale price for the job lot, 'cos no one else would buy it even _at_ the sale price."  
"I wonder why? Oh...I think we're about to get started, everybody's begun to form up. Shall we?"  
"After _you_ my dear."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE  
**_Bobby phones with a job for the boys._

Sam looked across from where he lay to his brother's bed. Dean was still sound asleep, laid on his belly with one leg stuck out from under the duvet and dangling off the bed. Sam smiled, he loved to see Dean sleeping so peacefully, his rest undisturbed by the haunted nightmares or worries which so often plagued them both. Sam turned away and for a while he simply lay on his back, eyes closed, enjoying the luxury of a comfortable bed in a clean and pleasant motel suite with no pressure to rush to get somewhere, or to have to run to escape unwanted attention. Things between himself and Dean were good right now, they were both relaxed and were enjoying one another's company. There were no arguments, just brotherly teasing and a sense of being close to each other in a way that they had both missed. After a while, Sam roused himself, quietly climbing out of bed and pulling on sweatpants and a baggy tee. Scribbling a quick note to Dean, he let himself out of the apartment to go fetch breakfast for them both.

As the door closed softly behind Sam, Dean opened one eye and grinned. He rolled himself lazily over onto his back and stretched, cat like. As he lay he softly trailed the fingers of one hand down over his bare chest, carrying on to brush across his stomach and, finally, moving his hand down under the waistband of his jogging bottoms. He felt himself growing hard in response to his own touch, and he moaned quietly as he began to slowly and gently stroke himself.

Dean had not long since finished when Sam returned. Sam took one look at Dean's relaxed expression as he lay on his back in bed, hands behind his head, his pupils still large, his smile soft, and he grinned.  
"Do you need me to go out again and come back later?"  
Dean's smile grew wider.  
"Nah...I'm good."  
"Is that just your own opinion?"  
"Hell no! There's a trail of ladies who'd confirm it for you. You fetched breakfast?"  
"Yeah, but _you_ can go wash your hands before you eat."  
Dean gave Sam a mischievous wink.  
"Sure you don't wanna come over here and lick them clean for me?"  
Sam shook his head in complete disbelief, at the same time screwing up the paper bag that had contained their breakfast and throwing it, bouncing it off Dean's forehead.  
"_You_ are a total deviant...you know that?"  
Dean laughed out loud at his younger brother's horror and began to get out of bed.  
"I know, but you gotta admit, I'm lovable with it!"  
Sam pointed a finger in the direction of the bathroom.  
"Go...get cleaned up you pervert, before I hurl over your breakfast!"  
Dean was still laughing to himself as he disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time he emerged, showered and dressed, Sam had the table laid. The coffee maker was chugging happily, filling the kitchen diner with it's slightly spiced aroma, toast was buttered and the breakfast was plated and keeping warm in the small counter top oven. Dean stood, eyes closed, breathing in deeply through his nose, sucking up the smell of fresh coffee and bacon; _Right now, right at this moment, I could die a very happy man. _Opening his eyes, he noticed that Sam had his cell held to his ear. Knowing Sam would fill him in if it was anything important, Dean headed to retrieve their breakfasts from the oven, madly blowing onto his fingers as he quickly carried the two very warm plates across to the table. As he put Sam's plate down in front of his brother he mouthed "_Who is it_?". Sam mouthed back, "_Bobby"._

"Ok.,.,.,.got that. You going to text the address through?.,.,.,.,.,.Yeah. We can be there by this afternoon. Did these women have any clue what they were getting into?.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.Great! What was your friend's name again?...Barbara, right. What I don't get Bobby, is why people think they can play with this kinda shit and not suffer any consequences.,.,.Fine.,.,.,.And you're sure it's a witch?,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.Crap Bobby! You're kidding me! Is that likely?"  
Dean, who had already curled his lip in distaste when he heard the word witch, now stopped eating, giving his full attention to Sam's side of the conversation.

"Yeah but, it can _call_ itself anything it wants to, doesn't mean it's true.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.You know _us_ Bobby, when do Dean and I _ever_ take unnecessary risks?.,.,.Well, ok, but that's just Dean.,.,.,.,.Don't worry Bobby, we'll be careful. If it _is_ her possessing this Ruth woman! Well, we're potentially gonna be faced with a whole new level of nasty."  
By this point in Sam's conversation, Dean was madly miming at Sam to put the phone onto speaker, and acting out what he would do to his brother if Sam didn't. Sam waved a hand at Dean, wanting his brother to back off and wait. Dean began to mime throttling Sam.  
"Bobby? I'm gonna fill Dean in before he pisses his pants. I'll call you when we've set off. Bye."

"_Sam!_ I swear sometimes you make me wanna kick your ass into next week! What was that all about? What the hell has Bobby got us lined up for?"  
Sam grinned.  
"You _sure_ you want to know?"  
_"SAMMY!"  
_Recognising that he was in imminent danger of having Dean's breakfast thrown at him, Sam conceded.  
"Ok, ok. Bobby's had a call out of the blue from the wife of a guy he helped out a few years ago. The guy's dead now, but he and Bobby kept in touch up until the guy died of an everyday heart attack around 18 months ago. At the time Bobby helped him, the guy was an assistant D.A. This guy's wife, Barbara, was lead to believe that Bobby was a Psychic who had been brought in to help out with a case..."  
"So, now her husband's spirit's possessed some witchy bod and she wants rid of it?"  
"No. If I can finish? Seems she and some friends have been getting together and playing at being white witches. Only instead of mixing up the usual love potions and stuff, a couple of months ago they had a go at a summoning. At first they thought nothing had happened and they all went home thinking it had been a bit of fun. Now though, this Barbara thinks the group leader, a woman called Ruth, was, and still is, possessed by the spirit of a witch."  
"Great. It_ had_ to be a witch didn't it?"  
"Oh, it's even better than _that_ Dean. The spirit? From what he's been told, Bobby thinks it could be Hecate."

Dean froze in the middle of reaching for a piece of toast and stared at his brother.  
"_Please..._tell me you're shittin' me!"  
"Hey, I'm just telling you what Bobby's told me."  
"_Sonova..._Does he really believe that?"  
"He thinks we should work on the basis it _is_ Hecate, but keep seriously hoping that it's not."  
Dean sat back, toast forgotten.  
"Chrissake Sam..._Hecate!_ The Queen Bitch Witch herself!"  
"I know. And let's not forget her other hobbies. Goddess of Hades, Ruler of the Crossroads and so on."  
"Oh...now that's just not fair!"  
"What?"  
"See? Now I can't decide whether to_ really_ enjoy this breakfast as if it's my last meal; or whether I _can't_ eat it 'cos I've just lost my freakin' appetite!"Sam looked down at his own plate of food.  
"I know exactly what you mean dude."

Dean eventually came down on the side of enjoying his breakfast, purely on the basis that wasting food is evil, especially given that his sausages had been made in Heaven, or so he proclaimed. Meal over, Sam stood up with his coffee,  
"Well. I fetched it and prepped it, so I guess that means you're washing up while I go sort us a route out...Actually, you know Dean, there _could_ be an up side to this job."  
"Yeah? Like what?"  
"Proper home cooked meals."  
"How come?"  
"Ah...didn't I mention? We're going to be staying with this Barbara woman while we work the case."

Dean stopped in the midst of gathering the breakfast plates up.  
"_What_? No Sam...You _didn't_ mention that tiny part of the whole deal! What happens if I wanna go out? You know.._.socialising_? Crap Sam. This's going to be totally awkward! I swear, if I have to sleep under chintz blankets and make polite conversation while I sip on my one glass of Cava 'cos that's all she's got...You an' Bobby better go into hiding for a few centuries! Why can't we find a crappy motel like always? No _way_ are we going to keep off Hecate's radar if we're staying with one of her coven!"  
Sam shrugged at Dean's dismay.  
"She offered, Bobby accepted. Done deal man."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N. A Big HALLOOO! to those of you who have kindly decided to give this story a go and have it on alert and stuff. Still have a vacancy for a volunteer Beta :D Chick x_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Barbara_

By the time the Impala swung onto Misha Close, Sam had given in under pressure, agreeing to tell the lady of the house that Dean was ill with the flu and didn't want to pass it on, so they were going to book into a motel. He'd drawn a line at Dean's suggestion that he tell the woman Dean had Bneubonic Plague, and Dean had "politely" refused Sam's offer to tell her that Dean had pubic lice and didn't want to mess up her bedding.

They drove up the short driveway and came to a halt outside a typical, large, upper middleclass residence. Sam looked around, taking in the well maintained lawns, the borders planted efficiently with tall, structural plants. A Wisteria had been carefully trained to grow against the front wall of the white painted house. Large terracotta planters filled with a cheerful mix of deep orange nasturtium, scarlet begonia and brilliant blue cornflowers were stationed either side of the colonial style pillars which stood proud of the front door.  
"It looks nice, doesn't it?"  
Dean gazed up at the three story house,  
"Guess so, if you like that kinda thing."  
He tried to picture himself and Sam living in somewhere like this. He figured a place this size, it _had_ to have a den, maybe with a pool table in it. He had begun to vaguely consider whether he and Sam ought to accept the owner's hospitality when his train of thought was interrupted.  
"So. You ready to pull the flu victim act?"  
"Er...Yeah, sure."  
As soon as Sam rang the doorbell, a dog's deep, loud bark started up from inside. Dean raised his eyebrows.  
"Jeeze! I hope that's friendly, or muzzled."

Noticing the door begin to open, Dean started fake coughing and sneezing. Miraculously though, his supposed bronchial cough stopped instantly once the door opened fully and he saw the woman who stood looking at them. His attention was first drawn to her figure and one thought crossed his mind _Cougar_. The woman went in and out exactly where she should. Barefoot, she was simply dressed in a tight white vest and faded blue jeans. Dean noted that she was braless and had little, if any, sign of the normal effects of gravitational pull. Her age meant that she was no longer pretty, oh no, not by a long shot! Here was a mature woman, Dean guessed maybe roughly in her mid-forties although it was hard to be certain, and she was _beautiful_. Laugh lines crinkled the corners of her thick lashed, true blue eyes. Her dark auburn hair was cut boyishly short at the sides and back, a heavy fringe swept just below her perfectly shaped eyebrows, glossed lips parted in a smile revealing Hollywood white teeth as her eyes swept over..._Sam_!

Sam smiled politely at the woman and held out his hand.  
"Hello. I believe you're expecting us? Sam and Dean Winchester. Bobby Singer sent us, er, Barbara?"  
The woman's own smile widened and she took Sam's hand in both of hers.  
"Yes...Yes. Good God! Bobby never mentioned how tall and, frankly, how goddamn _gorgeous_ you are ...er..?"  
Dean rolled his eyes as Sam blushed.  
"Oh, sorry, Sam...I'm Sam, and this here is Dean...My brother."  
Taking his cue, Dean stepped slightly to the front of Sam and unleashed his absolute, top of the range, best killer smile.  
"Hi Barbara. It's a real pleasure to meet you."

Reluctantly tearing her eyes from Sam, Barbara turned to greet Dean, and did a very obvious double take, her eyes opening wide.  
"_Oh man!_ You come in twos! _Two_ beautiful young men on my doorstep! I hope my neighbours are looking. Damn, I'm tempted to keep you both standing here till I'm certain that nosey bitch Charlotte has seen you!"  
Both brothers grinned, immediately warming to this stunning, but apparently down to earth, woman.

"Come in, _please_. It's great that you're here. I've got your rooms all ready, do you need to get your stuff out of the car? I hope you're both ok with dogs? If you're not, don't worry. I've shut Bryn in the breakfast room."  
Sam glanced at Dean before replying.  
"Actually...Barbara, we, er, we won't be staying. Dean here's not at all well and..."  
Dean cuffed Sam on the shoulder then nudged him, hard, in his midriff, causing Sam to cough slightly whilst trying to maintain his smile at Barbara who, in turn, was looking at the brothers questioningly. Dean gave a short laugh.  
"Ignore him Barbara. Truth is, Sam was worrying that we might be too much of an intrusion if we stayed...here...with you.  
Barbara took the bait, grabbing hold of one of Sam's hands and one of Deans, she firmly pulled them over the doorstep and into the house.  
"Don't be silly Sam. I'll feel _much_ safer with you two staying here. Don't even _think_ about arguing, I can be _very _persuasive."  
Dean turned to look back over his shoulder at Sam, grinning smugly as Sam glared at him.

Sam had just finished unpacking and was arranging his toiletries in his room's ensuite when there was a knock and the bedroom door opened.  
"Sammy? You still in here?"  
Sam strolled out of the shower room.  
"Yeah. You settled in?"  
Dean threw himself full length onto Sam's double bed and bounced a couple of times before sitting up and looking around.  
"Just finished unpacking. Nice rooms. Mine's got it's own shower as well. How many bedrooms do you think there are? Do you think they've _all_ got their own shower? Just how many toilets do you think one person needs? Hey...Maybe there's one for each day of the week?"  
Sam grinned at his brother's enthusiasm.  
"Which question do you want me to answer first? And stop bouncing will you? You about ready to go back downstairs?"  
Dean bounced himself off the bed and upright.  
"Lead the way baby brother."

The two hunters headed for the kitchen, guided by the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of Barbara singing along to Meatloaf's _Paradise by the Dashboard Light_. Dean grinned up at Sam.  
"I think there's a chance I might end up fallin' in love."  
Sam rolled his eyes.  
"Just don't forget why we're here. This' a hunt, not a vacation."

Dean pushed open the door to the kitchen, and was immediately knocked backward into Sam by a large blur of brown and gold which launched itself at him.  
"Bryn! _Down_! Dean! I'm so sorry! Bryn, leave him alone. Come on through, just shove him out the way, he'll settle once he's said hello. Coffee?"  
Suddenly realising that there were _two_ visitors to greet, the dog turned his attention to Sam, tail wagging furiously. Sam immediately knelt down to the dog and began petting it, laughing as the delighted dog tried to lick his face.  
"He's beautiful! What kind of dog is he?"  
Handing Dean a mug of coffee, Barbara looked fondly at the bear of a dog currently rolling on it's back having it's tummy tickled.  
"You mean apart from the idiotic kind? Best guess? A mixture of Labrador, Staffordshire Bull Terrier and Rottweiler. My husband brought him home as a pup three years ago, he'd been dumped. Obviously, we'd no idea he'd get to be so damn big, or so daft! You can probably tell he means the world to me. He's my big beautiful sunshine boy, aren't you my Brynnie?"  
At the sound of Barbara's voice and his name, the dog immediately righted itself and trotted over to her, sitting down and pawing her leg until she bent down and gave him a hug. Sam watched, the strength of the bond and the mutual adoration between the woman and her dog clear for all to see. For a brief moment, he felt that familiar pang of desire he often felt when he saw the tie between a happy dog and it's owner. Dean noticed the look in Sam's eyes, and called him over softly.  
"Sammy? Come and get your coffee."

It turned out that Sam had been right about the possible bonus of staying at their client's home. Once he and Dean were settled at the table in the large, yet homely, kitchen diner; Barbara produced something which made the moment absolutely perfect in Dean's eyes...home made cherry pie! Barbara laughed out loud at the look on Dean's face.  
"Guess Bobby wasn't kidding then!"  
Dean dragged his gaze away from the pie and looked at Barbara, a puzzled expression on his face.  
"He told me that if I wanted to make a friend forever, all I had to do was make pie. Mind if Sam and I have a share of it too?"  
Sam chuckled.  
"Bobby knows Dean, _and_ me, all too well."

Barbara won another little piece of Dean's heart when she simply cut the pie into three huge slabs, proceeding to tuck into her own share with as much pleasure as Dean himself. There was comfortable silence between the three as they ate, broken only by the occasional pounding of Bryn's tail as he waited patiently, and hopefully, at Barbara's side, never taking his soft brown eyes off her, or her pie.  
Dean's sigh broke the silence as he looked at his empty plate in satisfaction.  
"That, lady, was delicious! You've made me a _very_ happy man. Thank you."  
"You're welcome. It's nice to have a couple of guys to feed for a change."  
Sam smiled."Well. I can promise, we make very appreciative diners, and I agree with Dean. That was the _best_. Erm...You know, I hate to be the one to spoil the mood but, I guess we should talk about why we're here?"  
Barbara's expression clouded over, her face becoming serious and she absently fondled Bryn's ears.  
"Yeah...I guess so."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. I've gone and made myself hungry now! See you soon.  
__Chick xx_


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N. Hi again, hope you're still with me? A shout out would be cool. I did warn at the outset that I would be following a case right through, rather than starting in the middle with the action. I promise though, there _**will**_ be action - at the right time! :D_

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

_The boys find out more about the hunt_

Dean stared in disbelief at Barbara.  
"Whoa! So...let me get this straight. For the past eight months, you and a bunch of other bored women have been meeting at this Ruth's house, calling yourselves a Coven and been whisking up so called love potions, knitting good luck charms and baking _all your dreams will come true_ cupcakes?"  
Barbara frowned.  
"You don't_ knit_ charms, and I never said we baked! The stuff we did was more like mixing up your aromatherapy oils, making scented candles, copying out love spells onto fancy paper we'd made ourselves. Stupid stuff, I know. It was really more of a social thing. We'd all get together once a month, chat, have a drink...Becky and I, we joined it for a giggle. Really, the only person who seemed to take _any_ of it seriously was Ruth...Oh, and her little sidekick, Sandra."

Sam leant forward, putting up a hand signalling Dean to shut it.  
"Barbara...you said you copied love spells?"  
"That's right."  
"Where did you copy these spells from?"  
Barbara shook her head slightly.  
"Ruth would write them out first on a white board. Why?"  
Dean looked intently at the woman sat opposite him.  
"This could be important Barbara. Have you any idea where Ruth got the words for the spells from?"  
Barbara looked from Dean to Sam and back, chewing on her bottom lip.

"She has a book. Apparently she bought it at a yard sale for $3. I've seen her with it a couple of times. It looked really old and had a tatty plain black leather cover. I've never looked inside, but Ruth's always told us it's a genuine spell book. Some of the stuff in it is straightforward, but I know from Ruth herself that there's other things written in some weird ancient hoodoo type language; Latin or something I guess. Becky and I...well, we always thought it was probably some old _Readers_ _Digest Book of Spells_ kinda deal. I have to say, you two are making me nervous now; you think it might be genuine...don't you?"  
Sam and Dean glanced at one another.  
"Oh my God! You _do_ think it's real! _Shit_! _Shit!_ So...So what about Becky? What do you think might've happened to her? Oh, _balls_!"

Sam could see that the woman was about to freak, reaching across the table, he took both her hands in his and locked eyes with her. When he spoke his voice was soft and reassuring.  
"We don't know for sure whether the book's real, but it's a possibility. We need to check it out, and we will, I promise. Can you tell us more about your friend? When exactly did you last hear from her, and what makes you think she's just disappeared? Might she have, I dunno, gone to visit family somewhere?"  
Dean bent down to stroke Bryn's head. The dog seemed to have picked up on it's mistress' distress, moving closer to her until he was leant right up against her leg, a quite whimper coming from him. Still stroking the dog, Dean looked up at Barbara.  
"We also need to know more about Ruth. Bobby mentioned the name _Hecate_. Does that mean anything to you?"  
Barbara stood up from her seat, somewhat shakily.  
"Yeah. I think it means I need a drink."  
Bryn followed her as she moved toward one of the kitchen cabinets.  
"Either of you want to join me? There's beer in the refrigerator, help yourselves. Or I've got whisky, wine, rum, tequila, port, vodka. Take your pick. I've got mixers if you want them. Personally I'm cracking a large bottle of reserve port."  
Whilst Dean sorted the beers, Sam brought his laptop down from his room. They were soon all settled again and Bryn was happily gulping down his evening meal. Barbara breathed in deeply.

"Right...what do you want to know about first?"  
Sam shrugged.  
"How about you tell us why you think your friend not being around is out of the ordinary?"  
"Ok. Well, firstly, Becky's like me, neither of us have kids, so that kinda dulls the visiting family theory. Her mum's still alive, but they're not good together. Their contact tends to stay at the once a month phone call level and a short stop over at Christmas. Second, if Becky had booked a holiday away somewhere, either I would be with her right now, or at the very least I would know where she had gone. She would've told me and asked me to care for her plants. I haven't seen her for two weeks. If she had gone somewhere by choice, I would expect at least two texts a day from her. More worryingly, we had a lunch date at Ferrier's booked. People can be waiting weeks for a table there. No _way_ Becky would miss out on that...not unless someone, some_thing_, was stopping her from being there. Last time she came over she told me that Ruth had rung her and invited her round. Apparently Ruth had said she wanted to sound her out on some ideas for the coven and some role she wanted Becky to take on. It all sounded a bit cloak and dagger. Becky joked that Ruth wanted some colour advice. The meeting before that, the one where we did the supposed summoning? We'd all had to wear these God-awful piss yellow robes. Anyway, Becky swore she'd ring me the day after she went to Ruth's to fill me in. Course, she never rang and she didn't answer when I tried to phone her. The day after that I went over to Becky's, but she obviously wasn't in. I've left other messages, and nothing."  
Sam nodded his understanding.  
"Did you try contacting Becky's mum? You know, to see if she'd decided to visit for some reason?"  
"No...No.! Again, if Becky had plans she would've told me. Also, I didn't want to risk panicking her mum or causing her any worry if Becky_ wasn't_ there!"

Dean looked at his brother.  
"Sounds like our first job's going to be checking out Becky's house. We can do that tonight, right?"  
"Yeah, sure."  
Sam turned back to Barbara.  
"So...This Ruth character? You think she's up to something more than mixing scented oils?"  
Barbara looked embarrassed and drained her glass of port before answering.  
"Not up to something exactly...but...Promise me you won't laugh? Either of you?"  
Sam's hazel green eyes looked at Barbara steadily.  
"We won't laugh, I swear. There's not much you can tell us that we probably haven't heard before, however weird."

Barbara filled her glass again. Swirling the port around inside it, she stared into it's ruby depths.  
"Right. Ok. Well...I'm not so sure that Ruth is, you know, _Ruth_ anymore. I kinda think she might be someone else, or rather, I think someone else is sort of, possessing her? I think that maybe, somehow, our little summoning actually worked, and I think Ruth's been taken over. I know how ridiculous this will sound but...I think she's been possessed by this Hecate character. That's the name that Ruth kept calling on during our dumbass group exercise."  
Dean took a deep breath and rubbed a hand through his hair. Barbara looked accusingly at him.  
"You know that name, don't you? You know who this character is, both of you."

Dean glanced at Sam and nodded his head toward the refrigerator, signalling Sam to grab more beer. He turned back to Barbara, his expression serious, a mixture of both worry and annoyance in his green eyes.  
"Yeah...Sam and I know the name. You ever read Macbeth?"  
Barbara looked confused at the unexpected turn in the conversation.  
"I never actually read it, but I know of it obviously. Shakespeare, right? Double, double, toil and trouble. That the one? Why?"  
"Well, funny you should quote that bit. The leader of the wyrd sisters...the three witches...is Hecate. She's also, apparently, the Guardian of Hades, the Goddess of the Crossroads, her alter ego is said to be Diana, Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon. Oh, and she's _also_ supposedly the Queen of the Witches. Sam? Have I missed anything?"  
Sam shook his head as he handed Dean a fresh beer and sat himself back down at the kitchen table.  
"Nope. I think you've about covered it."  
Barbara stared wide eyed at the two hunters before, again, letting loose with her favourite word of the day.  
_"Shit!"_

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N. Thank you to those who have taken the time to review, __**and**__ to those of you who are following this. I'm trying to get 2 chapters out this weekend (although I'm on emergency duty, getting called out it might upset my plans!). Also, (keeping it cryptic so as not to spoil for anyone who's not seen it yet) had a slight wibble over S8 Ep15 thinking _no...please don't do this to me!

_With hugs,  
__Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 4**

_Witches, walks and research._

Sam choked down the mouthful of beer he was in the middle of swallowing, unable to stop himself laughing at Barbara's succinct response. Dean glared at him.  
"Oh...I'm glad you think this' funny bro, 'cos we've had _such_ a good time with witches so far!"  
Barbara butted in before Sam could respond.  
"So far?"  
Ignoring Sam wiping dribbled beer off his chin, Dean sighed.  
"Chucklehead here and me, we've come up against witches before...They can be a real pain in the ass. If you're right and your friend _is_ under Hecate's control, well... we'll have to be sure to watch each other's backs is all. Does Ruth..Hecate..Whoever, know about us?"  
For the first time in a while, Barbara actually smiled.  
"Oh. Don't worry, I got that covered. You're my cousin's sons stopping over for a few days, taking a break from a road trip."  
Dean interrupted.  
"Like we haven't used _that_ one a time or two."  
"Really? Anyway, I've not seen you since you were just toddlers. You're the Canadian part of the family. You had to be cousin's sons. Ruth knows I don't have any brothers or sisters. Is that ok as a...cover?"  
Sam grinned.  
"Yeah...we can work with that. Did you give her names?"  
"I used your real first names, I hope that's ok? Your surnames had to become Harlison I'm afraid."  
Dean gave short nod.  
"Harlison? Yeah, I can do that. Harlison it is."  
"Erm...There _is_ just one more,_ little_, thing you should perhaps know..."  
Immediately suspicious, Dean had the nagging feeling that he knew what was coming.  
"Go on."  
"Well, when I told Ruth about you..."  
"She coming here isn't she?"  
Barbara cringed.  
"I'm sorry! I couldn't think how to put her off without it looking odd. She's been here a few times and when I told her about you two stopping, well, she _insisted _she be introduced. I couldn't refuse the damn woman. She's coming over tomorrow afternoon. I really am sorry!"  
Dean stared at his beer.  
"Insisted? Oh_, great_!"

Dean remained on edge through the rest of the afternoon so, whilst Sam hit the research, Barbara dragged Dean along when she and Bryn went for a walk. Dean was surprised to discover that the route began by the threesome heading out into the large and heavily planted rear garden of Barbara's house. Bryn happily lead the way, coming to a halt at a wooden gate set into an unruly hedge of hawthorn which enclosed the garden. Dean looked on curiously as Barbara produced a sizable key and unlocked the gate. Following her through, he found himself stepping into a mature deciduous woodland. Barbara smiled as Dean stood gazing around.  
"Like it? This was the main reason Jim, my husband, and I bought this place. We spent hours exploring these woods together...And, obviously, it's great for walking the dog. Come on, we'll take you down to Bryn's favourite stream. He loves it when you skim stones across the water for him to chase."

Barbara proved to be easy company and the dog was delighted to have a new playmate in Dean. When they returned an hour or so later, Dean was feeling relaxed in a way that he hadn't felt for a long time. He and Barbara were still chatting genially when they walked back into the house. Looking up from his laptop, Sam couldn't stop his smile when he saw the flush in Dean's cheeks and the happiness lighting his green eyes. _This place is good for him, he looks...at ease, comfortable even. _Sam decided to hang on and tell Dean later what he had discovered during his research.

Barbara was busy preparing the evening meal, singing quietly to herself when Sam, sinking into an overstuffed sofa in the drawing room, fed back to Dean what he had found out.  
Dean stared at the images of two men and one young woman, their names running alongside the stills. All four were listed as going missing locally from their homes over the past few weeks. Dean noticed that Becky was not yet listed amongst them. He turned to Sam,  
"So...You're thinking that, somehow, all these missing people are linked to Hecate's arrival? Do we know if they've got anything in common? Aside from the whole _being missing_ connection."  
"Yeah, a couple of things I've come up with so far. They all lived alone, and none of them seemed to have any close family living nearby."  
Dean looked again at the faces on the screen,  
"No one to notice they've not been around too quickly then? Awesome. Any clue as to what Queen Bitch might want with them?"  
Sam shook his head,  
"Nada. She's credited with so many different roles and, when you chase just one of them down, the potential information sources are vast. Even just trying to separate the truth from the crap could keep someone busy till they're very old!"  
Dean nodded his understanding.  
"So, we play it by ear then. Maybe we'll dig something up at this Becky chick's house later. For now, let's just enjoy some down time."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

**A.N. More soon...very soon  
****Chick xx**


	5. Chapter 5

_A.N. No call out yet, so managed to get this next chapter up. Fingers crossed it stays quiet!  
__Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

_Becky's place_

Barbara hovered nervously whilst the brothers prepared for the drive over to Becky's house.  
"I feel like I should be doing something, you know? Like making you some sandwiches and a flask of coffee, or something. Should I? Make you up a flask I mean?"  
Sam laughed and put a hand on the woman's shoulder.  
"Barbara, really, stop worrying. We'll not be long, we're just going to check out the place, see if there's any clues to where Becky's gone, right? You might as well go to bed."  
Barbara gave Sam a look that said he must be a crazy man.  
"No way! I'm gonna be waiting up till you both get back and I know you're ok. There's no way I'd sleep. I'll just be wondering whether you found anything."  
Happy the EMF meter was working ok, Dean popped it into the small duffle along with the other stuff he had packed before giving Sam a nudge.  
"Come on, lets get this done."  
Barbara reached up to a key cabinet hung on the wall.  
"Hang on, you'll need a key for when you get back. No way am I leaving the door unlocked. If I hear the key in the door, then I'll know it's you."  
Sam accepted the house key off her, swapping it for a small piece of paper.  
"We'll keep our cells on. Ring us if you need to."  
Barbara locked the door once the two men had left. Sighing, she fondled one of Bryn's silky ears as he gazed up at her.  
"Come on my boy, might as well find something mind numbing to stare at on TV."

Following the directions given by Barbara, in less than an hour they were pulling up on the road outside an unlit, one story, ranch style house on a small estate of similar properties. The front garden was a simple grass lawn with a mature weeping willow growing centrally. For a couple of minutes, the hunters simply sat in the car, looking to see if their arrival aroused any curiosity from any neighbours. At 1am, only a couple of houses that Sam and Dean could see still had signs of the occupants potentially being up and around. Happy that no one was watching them, the brothers got out of the car. Dean grabbed the duffle and nodded his head toward the drive leading up to the house.  
"What do you think? Take a look around back first? Someone might see us messing with the front door."  
"Sure...Did you bring a torch?"  
"No Sam, I didn't. I figured it'd be more fun doing this in complete darkness. After you, brainiac."

A narrow path running along the side of the house took them around to the back where there was a neat and attractive patio style garden, dotted around with planters full of flowering plants. To one side was a bar-b-que and seating area. A rock water feature burbled away to itself in the centre of the patio. Sam stopped at the French windows leading from the house to the patio. Squatting down, he checked the lock.  
"Looks straight forward."

Within a couple of minutes Sam had slid one of the doors back and stepped into a large lounge area, closely followed by Dean. Dean shrugged the duffle off his shoulder. He passed a torch to Sam without comment, before extracting the EMF and turning it on. The homemade gadget's display didn't twitch. Sam began wandering around the living room, looking for any sign of something untoward having occurred in there, and finding nothing.

Together the brothers carefully made their way throughout Becky's home. In the master bedroom Dean spotted a full set of luggage bags stored away in the wardrobe. He highlighted them to Sam.  
"Doesn't look like the woman was planning on going away."  
Sam noticed a bath towel on the floor outside the ensuite. Picking it up, he sniffed it, screwing his nose up at the slightly fusty smell it gave off.  
"I'm guessing this' been laid here a while."  
Dean moved to the bed, picking up a mug off the bedside cabinet, he stared into it. On top of the dredges of coffee in the bottom, a thick scum of green grey mould had formed on the surface. Dean wrinkled his nose up.  
"Coffee's been left here for a while as well."

The last room to be checked was the kitchen. As soon as Sam pushed open the door, they both smelled the sweet, sickly scent of decaying meat. Glancing at one another, they moved further into the room. Sam swept his torch around the area, bracing himself for what the light might reveal. As he skimmed the light over one of the kitchen surfaces, Dean tapped his arm.  
"Back it up a bit ... There, on the counter."

Lit up by the torch lay a slab of meat sitting in a roasting tray. Dean moved towards it. He grabbed a carving knife out of a knife block. Staying at arms length, he used the knife to flip the meat over, immediately stepping back and cupping his other hand over his nose and mouth.  
"Oh man...That's just gross!"  
The centre of the meat was a heaving, pulsating mass of maggots. Sam grimaced.  
"Be grateful. At least it's not Becky we could smell!"  
Dean turned to look at Sam.  
"_Dude!_ Really?"

With nothing else of import to be found in the kitchen, the brothers began to re-trace their route, heading back towards the lounge. As they passed along a hallway, Dean came to a halt.  
"Hang on Sammy. Look, on the hall table, the answer machine for the phone's flashing. I'd better just check out the messages."  
The bright, yet brittle, female voice on the first message caught their attention.  
_"Becky dear, it's Ruth. Just checking that you're still coming over later. I can't wait to see your face when I tell you some of my ideas for the coven, especially the role I would like you to take on darling. I promise you, I have something very special in mind for you! Hurry up now my sweetheart, I'll be keeping an eye out for you..."_

A further five messages proved to be from Barbara; the first sounding jokey and light, demanding that Becky ring her to tell her what Ruth had wanted to see her about. After that, each message began to sound more concerned than the previous, as her friend's lack of response created an increasingly worried Barbara. The final message was from Becky's orthodontist to say she had missed her appointment that day and would she contact them to re-arrange..

Having seen and heard enough, the brothers left the house the way they had entered, securing the door again behind themselves.  
Pulling out of the estate where Becky lived, Dean glanced at Sam.  
"So. Thoughts?"  
"Well, unless this woman's forgetful or careless, you don't generally leave joints of raw meat to go off if you've arranged to go away for, what is it? A couple of weeks?"  
Dean nodded.  
"You agree then? When Becky went to visit this Ruth character, she'd got every intention of coming home, but never made it."  
Dean nodded again.  
"Yup...that's how it looks. I guess you're gonna be hitting the research. If this Ruth chick_ is_ being possessed by Hecate, we need to know how to bring the Queen Bitch down. Any clue why she might've taken Becky?"  
Sam shrugged.  
"Not yet. I dunno, maybe Becky stumbled onto something when she was over there?"  
"Possible. But my money's on Becky being targeted for something. Chrissake Sam...I totally_ hate_ witches!"

The following morning Dean and Sam were already up and about when a tired looking Barbara wandered into the kitchen, absently stroking the dog's head as she passed him. Dean immediately stood, heading for the coffee pot.  
"You look like you've not slept a whole lot. Sit down. "  
Barbara sat and gave Dean a slight smile.  
"No, I haven't. Truth is, until you two got back from Becky's, I'd managed to nearly convince myself I was just being stupid. I mean...it's just so...so..._Hell!_ I don't know _what_ it is, but I know I'm scared shitless. Also, I'm still worried that maybe I'm going loony tunes. I mean, one of my friends is possessed by the...what? _Ghost_? Of some high powered freakin' Goddess, who's also the Guardian of a whatnot and, apparently, is _the_ head witch! Of course, just to increase this fun filled package, it seems my possessed friend has probably kidnapped my best friend and could even have... Anyway. If it's ok with you two? I think I'd like to wake up now, 'cos this dream isn't funny anymore. Oh, yeah, I nearly forgot. If _that _lot isn't enough to keep me from sleeping, I've gone and arranged for the _possessed_ friend to come on over for a few drinks and to meet my fake cousins. Neither of who, by-the-way, appear to have any problem what-so-ever in believing this shit, and even seem to be used to it!...So how about you two?...Beds comfy enough?"

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

**A.N. Hope this was ok? Back soon :  
****Chick xx**


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N. Hi all, please don't expect me to post so quickly all the time, had a quiet one yesterday (thank goodness). Also, had a suggestion about layout, so going to try it & see what you think. Watched England v France rugby with friends yesterday evening, only so's I could pelt my French friend with comic relief red noses every time France got any points :D_

_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**

_An uninvited visitor._

It was with some difficulty that Sam and Dean persuaded Barbara to keep the day as normal as possible, reassuring her that one of them would stay with her outside the house. Sam volunteered to be first to accompany her out, going with her when the time came for Bryn's morning walk, leaving Dean to clear up after breakfast and to contact Bobby, both to update him and to ask that he help them out by hitting his books to find out anything about Hecate that they might be able to use to their advantage. When Dean told him about the spell book, Bobby demanded that the hunters do all they could to get hold of it, and pass it onto Bobby for safe keeping.

"You an' Sam decided how you're going to play it yet when this Ruth turns up at Barbara's?"

"Well...I've not talked it through with Sam yet..."

"But?"

"But, I figure that while she's here at Barbara's, it's a good opportunity for one of us to nip over to Ruth's house and check it out. What do _you_ think?"

Dean heard Bobby sigh before he answered.

"I gotta be honest. I don't much like the idea, but I have'ta agree it might be useful. Are you thinking of you, or Sam for the job? No, wait...hang on...let me guess...It wouldn't be, ohhh, _you _by any chance?"

Dean grinned as he spoke.

"Answer me this, old man. Which one of us is best at playing being sincere and polite? And which one of us keeps a pair of big, sad, puppy dog eyes as a secret weapon? Who's the most likely to convince Queen Bitch that we're nothing more than innocent and clueless long lost cousins, who're in no way a threat to Hecate's grand plan?"

Bobby gave a grunt.

"Yeah, alright. Don't like to admit it, but you gotta valid point there son."

..

Barbara looked from Dean to Sam and back as she paced her own kitchen.

"So what am I supposed to tell Ruth? She's expecting to meet _both_ of you. Course, whatever I say, she's gonna know I'm lying. I'll give myself away somehow, I just know it. What if this Hecate ghost thing reads my mind? Can they do that? Read minds I mean. And what if something goes wrong while you're breaking into her place? What happens then? Crap...I hate this!"

Dean flicked his gaze to Sam, asking him without words to try to calm the woman down. Sam stood up and intercepted Barbara in mid pace, guiding her back to the kitchen table and back into her chair.

"Barbara, it'll be fine. This is what Dean and I do. I'll be with you, so I'll tell Ruth why Dean isn't here, you don't have to. Dean's only going to have a scout around. Any problem, he'll contact me, I'll have my cell on silent. Even if he's still over there when Ruth leaves, I'll just ring him to let him know she's on her way. He'll have plenty of time to get out."

Dean nodded his agreement.

"Sam's right, it's a standard recon, that's all. The big thing _you_ have to understand is that the woman who'll be in your house isn't Ruth right now. Easiest way I can explain, I guess, is that the woman you know as Ruth is currently being worn, like a new suit, by Hecate. Ruth's _self_ is deep down in there, but it's Hecate who's in control, who's doing the walking and the talking. You have to remember that. Ok?"

Barbara was now staring in abject horror at Dean.

"Ok? **_OK_**? No, actually...It's completely _not_ ok! Ruth's a **_suit_**? What the _fuck_?"

..

Dean sighed and glanced away, shaking his head. When he looked back at Barbara his expression was stern, serious.

"Look Barbara. You're freaked. I get that, I do. But if Sam and I are gonna deal with this and get your friends back, _you_ have to hold it together and do your part. You with us?"

Barbara hesitated, before giving the slightest nod of her head.

"Good. Sam and I, we've dealt with possessions before. Now, normally we can get rid of the spirit and leave the person unharmed by containing the possessed person and doing an exorcism..."

A short, high pitched, burst of laughter emanated from Barbara, who immediately clamped one hand over her mouth. Dean waited, eyebrows raised. Removing her hand from her mouth, Barbara's giggle now had an edge of hysteria.

"M'sorry. But...exorcism? Spinning heads, green puke, _exorcism_?"

Barbara's giggle started up again, her eyes beginning to tear. "Sorry...sorry! I can't help it! _Oh God_!"

Dean turned to Sam, his expression pleading for help. Reaching out, Sam grasped hold of Barbara's arm firmly.

"Barbara! C'mon. Calm down...Pull it together. People could _die_ here! Jeeze, people might already _be_ dead! This witch, Hecate, she's likely to be the most powerful witch Dean and me have ever had to deal with. We don't even know if an exorcism is going to be all that it takes, and if it_ does_ need something more then, right now, we've got no idea what that might be."

..

Dean stared at Sam.

"Sonova... Don't hold back will you?"

Barbara's laughter had suddenly stopped and she was staring at Sam, her face drained of colour.

"Are you saying Becky might be..._dead_ already? Are you?"

Sam's voice became softer,

"We don't know. That's why you and I need to keep Ruth here and give Dean the chance to search Ruth's house. Ok?"

Not trusting herself to speak, Barbara simply nodded.

..

For the bigger part of that day, Dean became Barbara's shadow. Taking her into the local shopping centre, accompanying her and Bryn on the afternoon walk and generally doing all he could to keep Barbara focused and clear headed. Using the time this afforded him, Sam gave his attention to researching anything he could relating to possession by witches and, more importantly, how to deal with it.

Dean wandered into the lounge where Sam had hidden himself since mid morning.

"Hey."

Sam glanced up from the laptop.

"Hey yourself. Where's Barbara?"

"Managed to persuade her to take a nap. How you doin'?"

Sam stretched, then shuffled himself back on the sofa, snatching the bottle of beer out of Dean's hand and taking a deep swig.

"_Sam!_ Get your own!"

"No need, yours' fine. Right, so Hecate, Goddess of the Dark Moon..."

"That's a new one."

"Yeah. Anyway...The amount of legends and folk law about her is totally mind-boggling. There's those who claim she's been around since early Roman times, or that she's the daughter of a Greek God, even that she is actually the Queen of the elves! The consistent theme though is that she's a witch..."

"And a bloody good one at that. Hello boys."

Dean was up on his feet in an instant and glaring at the newcomer in Barbara's living room.

"_Crowley!..._What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Ok, new layout. The only problem **I've** found is that it means I can't identify paragraph separations, cause it won't let me have more than one space line between typed lines. That means the chapter would look like one long paragraph. Tried using a couple of dots to create the paragraph separation space, but not sure that's effective. Suggestions?_

_Chick xx_


	7. Chapter 7

_A.N. Hello again. Thanks for the feedback on the layout, hopefully it will be easier for people to read now. Also, just a quick _thank you_ from the heart for giving this a go! I'm trying to keep slightly ahead of you, and one of the brothers is in a dollop of poop where I am, the other one is only in a slight smear of the stuff at the moment. Not telling you who's who though! :D Finally, just to say how grateful I am to those of you who have left a review; it means a hell of a lot and makes this worthwhile. _

_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 7**

_Crowley's business plan..._

"Dean, sweetie, you might want to try making your greetings sound a little friendlier. After all, I've travelled all this way just to see you..._and_ the moose here of course."

"Well...Now you've seen us, so how about you get lost again?"

Completely unmoved by Dean's hostility, Crowley lowered himself into an armchair, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable whilst both Winchesters stared at him.

"Boys...Please. Stop gawping at me like that, I might blush!"

Sam stepped in before Dean could answer.

"What do you want Crowley?"

Resting his elbows on the chair arms, Crowley steepled his fingers together and gazed at the hunters in turn.

"Straight to business? See? That's one of the things I like about you. Alright, first, lets be honest just for a moment. You both know how much I enjoy keeping tabs on what mischief my two favourite hunters are getting themselves into. When my sources told me that you were here on a hunt, I just thought _fair enough_, at least you were out of _my_ hair. Then, by pure chance of course, my little boy scouts discovered _who_ you might be hunting. It's pure coincidence of course, but, I happen to have a small vested interest in your target. So, believe it or not, I've come here to help."

Dean gave a snort of laughter.

"Help? You want to help_ us_? Ok, go on. I'll bite. Why? What is it you want in return? Not that we _need_ your help, obviously."

Crowley smiled and leaned forward in his seat.

"The two of you are going after Hecate...Yes?"

Sam's expression was impassive.

"So? What if we are? What's _your_ interest?"

Crowley's expression suddenly became serious and his eyes a little darker as he turned his full and intense focus on to Sam.

"Hades."

...

Dean threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Oh for...This is_ unbelievable_!"

Sam's attention remained on the face of the King of Hell.

"So...How does it go? You help us flush Hecate out, then leave us to deal with her, hoping we can keep her distracted enough so that you can quietly step in and takeover Hades? Give us one good reason why you think we'd let you do that."

Crowley shrugged.

"Because the three of us are such good mates? Look, both of you...The fact is that it doesn't, and never would, make one iota of difference to you and the rest of humanity, _who_ was overseeing Hades. In fact, it actually makes things a lot..._neater_...if it's yours truly. If you don't believe me, try reading your own bible. According to that, there's no difference between the two. Hades is Hell and Hell is Hades. So really, if both places are brought together under the one umbrella, so to speak, it would merely put things back in line with how your Good Book says it is already. If it helps, think of it as a friendly corporate takeover. Actually you _could_ say I'd be doing people a favour by getting rid of any confusion about how the two places might, or might not, differ. So...What do you say boys? Do we have a deal?"

...

Sam got up from the sofa and moved to stand next to his brother, folding his arms as he continued to gaze steadily at the King of Hell.

"We need time to think about it."

Crowley nodded, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

"Of course you do. I understand. Best not hurt yourselves thinking for too long though, eh?"

Crowley stood up from his chair. Holding one hand palm out to the hunters to signal that his actions were harmless, he reached into a trouser pocket with his other hand and drew out one black leather glove which he then put on. With his hand now protected by the glove, he used this to reach into the breast pocket of his jacket. Crowley pulled out a small clear plastic bag with something red curled in one corner.

"In the meantime, take this as a gesture of my goodwill."

Crowley held the bag out to Dean. Taking it, Dean held the bag up and looked at the contents in confusion.

"A piece of red yarn? What the frigg are we supposed to do with this?"

Sam glanced at Crowley, then held his hand out to Dean.

"Here, let me have a look."

Dean passed him the bag. Crowley stood waiting whilst Sam stared at the yarn.

"Seven knots. It looks wet. What's the yarn been soaked in?"

Crowley smiled slightly at Sam's question.

"Not as dumb as you look, are you Moose? 100 per cent, pure grade, Sanctified oil."

Sam nodded his understanding. Taking the yarn out of the bag, he handed it to Dean.

"Tie it on your wrist. It's supposed to act as a protection against evil."

Dean glared uncertainly at the slender length of yarn.

"Seriously?"

Crowley removed his glove and straightened his tie.

"Right. I'll be off then. Give me a shout once you've finally managed to figure out the deal's a good one. Just remember, don't strain those tiny brains of yours for too long, will you?"

...

Dean glared at the empty space where Crowley had been stood.

"Can you believe that guy?"

"Yes. It's Crowley. If he sees an opportunity he thinks he can somehow use for his own benefit, he's _always_ going to take it."

"So, what? Are you thinking we should accept his offer, leaving him to stroll casually into Hades? And, before you answer that...Exactly what _is_ the freakin' difference between Hell and Hades?"

Sam frowned, searching his memory.

"The only thing I know of is that Hades was supposed to be not so clearly defined as Hell. It has it's good areas and, as a result, a proportion of good souls inhabiting it. The place is mentioned in ancient Roman tales, and by the ancient Greek. Some think that the Niffleheim of Norse mythology is actually Hades. Warriors who died in battle earned, according to the legends, a place for themselves in Valhalla. The rest mostly went to Niffleheim."

Dean considered Sam's information briefly.

"Well, that's that then. We don't accept the slime ball's help, and _he_ doesn't get his claws into any good souls. Right?...I said, right?...Sam?"

Sam shrugged.

"Yeah, that's one answer. Or, we present our _own_ demands before we let him help out."

"Such as?"

"Such as, all good souls get offered the opportunity to get out of Dodge and, if they _do_ choose to move out, Crowley helps them to do it."

"Ok. Say we go with that plan...Where would all these good souls go? They couldn't just be left to waff around aimlessly, they'd all end up going crazy, and then we'd have to hunt 'em all down again. Jeeze! We'd _never _get any down time!"

Sam sat down in the chair Crowley had recently vacated.

"I suppose, seeing how they're good souls, it's possible they'd all get to go to heaven. I guess we'd have to figure that out before we accepted Crowley's offer.

Dean tilted his head slightly to one side whilst he considered Sam's suggestion.

"If we could somehow be _sure_ they'd all go upstairs, I could probably work with that as a deal. Right now though, we don't _need_ any help from the runt. I say we keep it that way!"

"No argument here."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. So...who thinks they're not going to need Crowley? __;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A.N. So, we're sticking with this layout then, and the consensus is that Crowley, sadly, will become necessary. Well, as they say, any port in a storm...and the storm _**is**_ brewing ;__I_

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

_Ruth arrives at Barbara's._

Unaware that her home had been visited by the King of Hell, Barbara watched as Dean did a final check of the contents of his duffle. Sam didn't bother to hide his concern from Dean, it was pointless trying anyway, Dean could read him too well.

"You sure you've got everything?"

"Stop being such a mother hen will you? Here, Barbara, I've got something for you. Hold your wrist out."

Looking confused, Barbara did as Dean asked. Her confusion increased when Dean began to tie a piece of knotted red yarn securely around her wrist.

"What on earth's that for?"

Dean pulled the sleeve of Barbara's jumper down over the wool.

"It's a protection against evil, just make sure Hecate doesn't spot it, or she'll know we're onto her. Ok?"

Barbara stared at Dean as though he was a crazy man.

"Just how does a greasy bit of wool keep anyone safe from anything?"

Sam grinned.

"Trust us. That's knot magic and it can be quite powerful. Especially when it's been made by someone who _really_ knows what they're doing."

Barbara still looked uncertain.

"So, who made _this_ then?"

Dean winked at her.

"Trade secret, but you can be sure it's been made properly. Like I said, just remember to keep it out of sight."

Dean bent to pick up his duffle.

"Time I wasn't here. Text me when Hecate arrives so I know I've got the all clear, and again when she leaves...Or, if there's something I need to know between times. If I'm done before I hear from you, I'll find somewhere to hang out. We good?"

Sam nodded.

"We're good...Be careful and stick to the plan. Just have a look around, then get out of there. Got it?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Ok Samantha, I got it! See you both later."

...

Barbara stood, unmoving, staring at the door as it closed behind Dean. Sam put his arm around her shoulder.

"Come on, relax Barbara. He'll be fine, really. I'm going to go get change before Hecate...Ruth...gets here. Ok?"

Barbara reluctantly dragged her gaze away from the door.

"Yeah. Ok."

...

In less than thirty minutes, Dean was sat in the Impala, parked around a corner and well out of sight of Ruth's house. He checked his watch, Ruth, or Hecate, was due to arrive at Barbara's place in around ten minutes. He idly wondered if he and Ruth had unknowingly crossed each other on their respective journeys? Turning on the tape player, he settled himself in to wait for Sam's text.

...

Although Barbara was trying hard to appear relaxed, she found herself looking up at the window every few seconds, looking for Ruth's car pulling onto the drive. Despite that, when the silver merc actually _did _sweep into the drive, Barbara jumped and the butterflies hovering in her stomach suddenly swarmed and took off.

"Sam...she's here! What do I do?"

Sam smiled.

"First you take some deep breaths. I guess after that, actually letting her in would be a good next move, don't you think?"

Slightly irritated by how calm Sam appeared, Barbara glared at him.

"Soooo funny...Keep Bryn in here with you, Ruth's not overly fond of dogs, she can just about put up with Bryn provided he doesn't try too hard to greet her."

Sam called the dog over to him and grasped hold of his collar lightly. Whilst Barbara went to greet her guest, Sam took the opportunity to send a brief text to his brother, _She's here._ He heard Barbara's voice out in the entrance hall as she opened the front door to their visitor.

...

"Ruth! It's lovely to see you...Let me take your jacket. That's a beautiful dress, Jaeger? Sam's in the lounge, take yourself through. What would you like to drink?"

"Barbara darling, you look fab as always. I'll have a glass of dry red to start. Where's that big beautiful dog of yours?"

...

Sam was surprised when he heard Ruth speak. Unlike the sound of the voice on Becky's answer machine, when heard in real life, her voice had a definite honeyed undertone. It was liquid, warm and husky. Sam was fascinated by it, and keen to meet the woman behind such an alluring, and extremely compelling, voice. He wasn't left waiting very long.

"Bryn's in the lounge, Sam has him pinned down so he can't rush you."

...

The door to the lounge opened, and Ruth sashayed in, laughing lightly in response to Barbara, as her eyes immediately swept around the large, comfortable space, until they settled on Sam. Or at least, Sam _assumed_ it was him that the tall, willowy woman was looking at. He was taken aback to suddenly realise that it was actually Bryn that she was focusing on, as Ruth/Hecate made directly to the dog, going so far as to kneel down in front of Bryn. She reached out with both hands to fondle the dog's ears and face in greeting. As she did so, her vocabulary turned to classic doggy baby speak, full of _who's a_ _handsome boy then?_ and _look at your big beauffifful brown eyes_. When the woman finally leaned forward to plant a kiss on top of the dog's head, Sam heard a squeak come from the doorway.

...

Barbara stood, frozen, holding glasses and a bottle of wine as she stared in wide eyed amazement at her friend's interactions with Bryn. Sam intercepted Barbara's gaze, raising his eyebrows in enquiry. Barbara returned his look with a short shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders that said _Damned if I know, this is a new one on me_! Looking back down at the woman and dog Sam got the impression that this was all new to Bryn as well, as the dog tried to back away from Ruth's attention, ducking his head to one side in an effort to avoid this strange person who was sticking her mouth to his head. Sam gave a polite cough, relieved to see Barbara pick up on his signal and become animated once more.

"Ruth...May I introduce my cousin's son, Sam? Sam, this is my friend Ruth."

Sam held his hand out into the woman's line of sight. She turned from the dog and Sam found himself looking into pale grey eyes as Ruth smiled up at him, and clasped his hand in both of hers. Sam jumped as a momentary charge of static electricity seemed to pass from Ruth to him, and it appeared that, for the merest fraction of a second, her eyes darkened.

"Delighted to meet you Sam. I do apologise, but I just _adore_ dogs. Would you mind helping me up, my dear?"

"Of course, no problem."

Sam stood and again held Ruth's hand as he guided her to her feet, this time however no jolt passed between them. Once on her feet, Ruth, or Hecate, took a step back and, without any attempt at subtlety, she eyed Sam up, down and back again.

"My, my Barbara! You forgot to tell me what a beautiful boy Sam is!...So...Where's the other one?"

...

Right at that moment _the other one_ was standing on the sidewalk fronting Ruth's house, pretending to be deep in conversation on his cell whilst his eyes scanned the area; checking out who else was around and whether they had noticed him walking up the tree lined avenue. Looking for signs of anyone who might seem to be paying him any undue attention.

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_A.N. I think it's up to the individual whether to leave a review or not, but I always feel honoured by the people who do, simply because it's gratifying to know that people are interested enough to read my offerings._

May your best wish come true.

Chick xx


	9. Chapter 9

_A.N. The other half downloaded S8 Ep16 for us and, as usual, checked a bit at random to make sure it had downloaded properly, then as we settled to watch, warned me I might end up swearing. The reason? Artemis - in some mythologies AKA Hecate! Fortunately, any similarities were __**extremely**__ minor. _

_Also, to let you in on the thing with **Ruth & the dog**: Hecate was believed to have an affinity with dogs and is often depicted with a hunting dog at her side. There was apparently an "old wive's tale" that said if your dog became excited and was barking at night for no good reason, it was because Hecate was passing by, but only the dogs could hear her. For those who have seen Ep16, yes, one of Hecate's _many_ given attributes was, indeed, the Goddess of Hunters. So now you know :D_

_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

_Game on_

Ruth's question seemed to throw Barbara and she didn't answer immediately; instead there was a clear hesitancy about her as she looked to Sam for help. Ruth looked concerned.

"Barbara dear? Is something wrong? You _did_ say that you were expecting two visitors, I hope nothing untoward has happened?"

Sam quickly came to the rescue.

"I'm afraid there is, in a way. Dean, my brother, wasn't feeling so good when we got here and he's got worse through the day. He's upstairs, in bed, trying to sleep it off."

"It?"

"Possibly flu. His temperature's up and he said he ached everywhere. I've given him some anti flu tablets, they always knock him for six, so it's bed and plenty of fluids. He asked me to give his apologies to you."

Ruth's look of concern increased.

"Oh, the poor dear. Maybe I should go pop my head around his door? I could introduce myself and see if he needs anything at the same time. I hate to think of the boy being left all alone."

Barbara moved quickly to place the wine and glasses down on a glass topped coffee table. Pouring a generous measure into one glass, she held it out to Ruth, hoping to distract the woman.

"Stop worrying Ruth. I looked in on him just before you arrived. He's sound asleep. So...when did you decide to become a doggy person? You've never been keen before. Sam, help yourself to wine or, if you prefer, you know where I keep things. Ruth?"

Ruth smiled at Barbara, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she accepted the wine and moved to sit herself gracefully down on one of the two sofas.

"Oh, I think I've simply become used to your dog now my dear, he's such a well mannered animal and quite the handsome gentleman. But really, it isn't him I've come to see today, is it? Now then, Samuel, you must tell me all about yourself."

"It's Sam, and I'm afraid there's not much to tell. My father is Aunt Barbara's cousin. The last time Dean and I saw her we were just children. We're spending our holiday taking a road trip. When we realised we were going to be close by, we rang our Aunt out of the blue really and then arranged to stop off and visit."

"Marvellous! And how long will you and your poor brother be staying? Will I have the opportunity to meet him do you think? I would so love to."

Sam shrugged.

"Probably a few days. We don't really have a strict timetable."

...

Satisfied that there was no one nearby to show any interest in him, Dean began to make his way up the drive to the first bend. From there, he finally saw Ruth's house. Surrounded on three sides by mature, woodland style gardens, the house itself was gracefully designed, a classic depiction of the Art Deco era which it represented. Built in a sand coloured stone, it had three floors and what appeared to be a further attic level. To the front of the house was a plain lawn, in the centre of which stood a magnificent and ancient looking willow tree. The gardens themselves were enclosed by a tall, dense yew hedge, which effectively served to block the house from public view. And whilst the house was stylish and expensive looking, there was nothing which appeared to be either creepy or supernatural about it.

...

Dean casually strolled up the rest of the driveway toward the covered entrance of the front door. Once there, he paused to pull an ID card from his jacket pocket before pressing the doorbell. Garnering no response, he tried knocking firmly against the wood and stained glass door. After knocking a second time without any answer, Dean settled himself down to the business of picking the lock. It didn't take him too long and he finally pushed open the door. Dean stepped over the threshold to find himself in a reasonably sized, black and white floor tiled entrance hall. Closing the door quietly behind himself, he stood, listening intently for any sounds that would indicate there was someone else here after all. Finally, he felt satisfied that he was the only current occupant. Dean felt himself relax and he glanced around, taking in the stairs leading up from the entrance hall to the next level, and then the closed doors set into the walls surrounding him. He decided to head upward and start by searching the top floor, before working his way gradually back down.

...

The stairs which lead up to the attic level were much narrower than the others. A low, windowless, corridor lead off from the top of the stairway. Flicking on his torch, up ahead Dean could see two doors, one either side of the narrow hallway, almost opposite each other. He walked down to them, coming to a halt in front of the right hand door. Reaching out, he clasped the door knob. As he turned it, he instantly became aware of two things. First, the door was unlocked and second, the air around him had suddenly turned cold enough for him to see the mist of his own breath.

"_Crap_."

...

Sam was soon left feeling that he was on the receiving end of an interrogation. Whereabouts in Canada did he and his brother come from? What did they do for a living? Why hadn't they seen Barbara for such a long time? Why didn't they attend their uncle's funeral? Sam kept all his answers as neutral as he could, but Ruth's next question caused him a flash of anxiety and he wondered whether something he said had made Ruth suspicious.

"So, Sam my dear. Tell me, do either you or your brother believe in the supernatural?"

Sam glanced at Barbara then back to Ruth who gazed steadily back at him, a small smile curving her lips as she waited for his reply. _Sod this you bitch. Fine...let's play_.

"Erm...Wow...Weird question! Do you?"

Barbara tried stepping in.

"Ruth! Honestly?"

Ruth patted Barbara's leg, but her eyes stayed on Sam.

"Oh Barbara, it's just a bit of fun. Sammy doesn't mind, do you?"

"Sam...Please. And no, I guess I don't mind, I just think it's a very odd question to ask someone you've only just met, really. I'm assuming you do? Believe that is?"

Ruth's smile grew and she leaned forward, bringing herself closer to Sam as she whispered conspiratorially,

"Your Aunt here has a little secret that maybe she hasn't told you. You'd be surprised at some of the things she gets up to."

Sam's eyes narrowed,

"Or maybe I wouldn't. Really it's none of my business. Any secrets that Aunt Barbara has are hers to keep, don't you think? Anyway, what about_ you_ Ruth? _Are_ you a believer? You didn't really say. I'd lay money that you've got _plenty_ of little secrets, and maybe some that aren't so little...Should I ask Aunt Barbara to tell me all about _those_? I'm guessing that would definitely be fascinating."

As if sensing an undercurrent, Bryn whined and moved to sit upright at Sam's feet, lifting one paw he rested it on Sam's knee and turned his brown eyes up to Sam's face.

...

Barbara tried to intercede again, keeping her tone light hearted.

"For goodness' sake, stop it you two, you're upsetting Bryn...Anyone want topping up? Sam, would you prefer a beer? I've got some savouries warming in the kitchen. Ruth? Be a pet and help me bring them through? Please?"

Ruth flashed Sam a half smile that seemed to say _we're not done here_, before she allowed her smile to broaden as she turned to face Barbara .

"Of course dear. I could do with a nibble, I'd hate for the wine to go straight to my head, you know how giggly I get when that happens! Lead on dear heart."

Following Barbara as she headed out of the lounge, Ruth paused in the doorway. Turning to look over her shoulder back at Sam, she gave him a slow and deliberate wink. Sam maintained his steady gaze, keeping his expression neutral, until Ruth turned away again and wandered after her hostess.

...

Once Ruth was out of sight, Sam sighed and slouched back into his chair, his hand absently stroking Bryn's head. He couldn't be sure whether Ruth was playing him, testing him out, or whether she'd already picked up something about him in that odd moment when they first shook hands. He was now much _more_ certain, however, that Ruth _was_ under the influence of something. All his Hunter's instincts were screaming it at him, and he couldn't shake the feeling deep in his gut that danger was near. He reached for his cell and hit his brother's number.

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_A.N. Thanks for hanging in there! See you soon._

_Chick xx_


	10. Chapter 10

_A.N. Another weekend, another chapter. Had some late finishes at work, so wasn't able to post during the week. Hope this chapter makes up for it somehow.  
__Chick x_

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

_Trapped_

Dean turned around slowly, placing his back against the door. In the middle of the corridor, directly in front of him now, a faint nebulous swirl of blue-grey smoke hovered and was already starting to become more visible, more _here._ The abstract haze began to coalesce, the smoke seeming to be drawing itself together, taking on the shadow shape of a humanesque figure. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Dean took a step sideways, trying to take himself out of the direct line of whatever it was that was trying to form; it simply moved in tandem with him. Not yet having been threatened, Dean slowly leaned to one side, dropping his kit bag soundlessly to the floor. Straightening up again, he stilled and waited, reassured by the weight of the Glock that was now in his hand. He blinked as he felt the whisper of a cool, soft breeze on his face, almost like a breath and, at the same moment, he heard a voice, formed on a sigh..._Help...meeee._

_..._

Dean frowned as he gazed at the cloudy figure, his gun hand down by his side, reflexes tensed, ready to react if it tried to move any closer toward him.

"Who are you? Gimme a name."

The smoke grew denser, then faded again as though it was struggling to take on a more solid form. Dean's voice stayed steady.

"Why should I help you? Who are you?"

Dean's question was followed instantly by a loud bang, as the door he had so recently been backed up against flew open inwardly.

"_The fu...?"_

Dean just had time to notice the outline of the smoky figure shudder, then it abruptly evaporated. At the same moment, Dean felt a sudden, hard tug that jerked him through the open doorway and into the attic room. He stumbled as the force released it's hold of him and, in the brief moment that it took for Dean to regain his balance, the door had slammed closed, shutting him in the room. Dean turned a 360 degree circle, scanning the immediate environment but seeing nothing. Striding to the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled, he wasn't surprised when the door wouldn't budge.

"Well. Isn't this just freakin' great!"

...

Turning around to face back into the room he was now trapped in, Dean peered into the gloom, noticing for the first time that it had an eerie dark green glow. As he raised the glock, the phone in his jacket pocket vibrated, Dean only just managed to stop himself from firing off a random bullet in shock. Hurriedly he grabbed at his phone.

"Sam? That you?...Sammy?...Hello?...C'mon dude...whoever you are...talk to me... Sam? _Crap_. Sam, if that's you I can't hear you...Ok...If you can hear me, I'm stuck in an attic room at Ruth's place. Think I'm gonna need some help here...Sammy? _Screw_ _it!"_

Frustrated, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"I hope you could hear me little brother; hurry your ass on over here any time you like kiddo!"

...

Sam was almost sure that Dean's phone_ had_ been answered, but all he could hear was a soft and continuous background hiss and crackle. Repeating his brother's name gained him no response. Exasperated, Sam ended the call; then hit Dean's number on speed dial again. No change, it was still the same irritating noise he'd heard the first time around.

_"Damn it!"_

"Oh dear. Is there a Problem?"

...

Sam raised his head to find Ruth stood in the doorway bearing a tray of finger food and looking at him curiously.

"Er...No. No problem. Needed to speak to a friend, he's obviously not at home."

Ruth walked gracefully across the room and deposited her tray.

"Seems Barbara's been busy, help yourself."

Sam glanced behind Ruth.

"Where is she?"

"Little girl's room. Why? Do I make you nervous? Tall, strapping young man like you?"

Sam gave a slow smile.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether there's any reason I _should_ be wary of you...Well? Is there?"

Ruth gazed at Sam intently, a vaugley curiouse expression on her face.

"You tell _me_ Sammy. Are you afraid of me boy?"

...

This time Sam was certain, there _was_ a flicker of something, something in the woman's eyes. Sam recognised a shift had somehow occurred, and that he and Ruth were now intellectually circling one another, weighing each other up, each trying to predict the other's possible next move, trying to gauge what the other one suspected, or knew. At the side of Sam, Bryn began a deep rumble in his throat. All of Sam's instincts told him that the woman _did_ know something, _had_ sensed something. He desperately needed to get hold of Dean...and soon.

...

Dean turned and kicked at the door futilely. _Ok, so I need to figure out a different exit. _Eyes having adjusted to the low light level, he visually scanned the room. He spotted one small skylight style window set into the slanting ceiling. It was covered by thick dirt and the dense leaves of some stray clinging ivy. There was some slight relief as Dean realised that the foliage was the cause of the green tinged light, rather than anything supernatural. The flooring in the room consisted of grimy, plain wood planking. Propped up against one wall was a broken circular wooden table top. Dean noticed three dust sheet covered mounds, the smallest having no defined outline and standing around 2', the next in size being around 4' in height, shaped as if the sheet lay over two or three stacked packing crates. The tallest covered mound being around 8' and very much cupboard or wardrobe shaped. Against another wall stood an old, battered, four drawer metal filing cabinet. Dean walked over to stand under the skylight window. At around 2' by 18" it would be a squeeze, but Dean reckoned he could get through and out onto the roof. The rest he would have to figure after that. First though, he needed something to stand on so he could actually reach the window which was a good 4 to 5 feet above his head. Staring up at his way out, Dean considered his options. If his guess about there being packing crates or boxes of some kind under one of the dust sheets was right, then a couple of those might just be what he needed. Shoving the glock into the back of his jeans he turned.

...

Dean's eyes opened wide as he, very unexpectedly, found himself confronting one of the dust sheets at close quarters, as it hovered and swayed in mid-air in a very un dust sheet like manner. Surprise put Dean on the back foot, and his reactions were too slow to avoid the dust sheet darting towards, up, over and around him. Twisting and writhing it began to tightly loop and tangle itself around Dean, wrapping itself across his arms and legs, pinning them against his body Unable to maintain his balance, Dean slammed to the floor. Panic engulfed him as part of the animated sheet pushed and force it's way into his mouth, effectively gagging him. The energy Dean put into his struggles was more than matched by the sheet rapidly forming parts of it's length into twisted shanks which then slid, eel like, around Dean's torso, climbing upward and encircling his chest until finally, to Dean's horror, he felt the thing wrap itself around his neck, and begin to gradually pull itself tighter.

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_Until next time! ;)_

_Chick xx_


	11. Chapter 11

_A.N. Evil, murderous sheets - maybe Ruth needs to consider changing her laundry powder?  
__Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

_Hecate makes her presence known._

Barbara re-appeared bearing more wine. She took two steps into the room before she abruptly came to a halt at the sight of the tableau before her. Ruth was stood, ramrod straight and tall, her gaze locked with Sam's, who stared right back at Ruth from where he sat. Barbara coughed politely. When she spoke there was a wary edge to her voice.

"Um...Excuse me? Have I interrupted something? What's going on? Ruth?"

Ruth's shoulders visibly relaxed and she suddenly broke eye contact with Sam. Turning her head to look over her shoulder at Barbara, she smiled and gave a light hearted burst of laughter.

"Oh, my dear! There's _nothing_ going on, silly. Sam and I were just toying with each other, having a bit of fun, that's all...Here, let me take the wine. Are we all ready for a re-fill?"

Sam stood up, his expression cold.

"Not for me, thank you. If you'll excuse me Aunt Barbara, I'm going up stairs to check on Dean...see if he's still sleeping or if needs anything."

...

Watching Sam stalk out of the room, Barbara wasn't being fooled. She knew she had walked in on the end of something, she just wished she knew what it was. Whatever had happened, she didn't feel at all comfortable about being left alone with Ruth right now, but she guessed that Sam had gone out of earshot in order to ring his brother. With a huge amount of willpower, Barbara endeavoured to put her smile back in place as she turned and held out her empty glass for Ruth to fill. Ruth's movements were little more than a blur as her hand shot out and she grabbed Barbara's wrist in a crushingly tight hold. Leaning forward, her face only inches from Barbara's, Ruth stared into Barbara's eyes, her expression fierce, her underlying tone threatening as she spat out a hissed whisper.

"_Who...is...he?"_

"_Ruth! Please!_...Let go, you're hurti... "

Barbara stopped in mid-sentence as Ruth eye's suddenly opened wide and, at the same moment, a deep, completely unnatural, animalistic sound sprang forth from Ruth's mouth. Ruth instantly dragged her hand off Barbara's wrist and stumbled away from her, panting and evidently in pain. Her breaths still coming in gasps, Ruth's glare made Barbara shiver.

"_What did you do?_ What _was_ that? _Answer_ me you little **_whore_**!"

Shaking her head, Barbara began to carefully back out of the room, trying to increase the distance between herself and this woman who she had thought was her friend, this, _Ruth Suit._

"You're not Ruth! Leave me alone _bitch_...and **_get out of my house_**!"

The cold, cruel smile that twisted the creature's mouth was one that Barbara would never have expected to see on her friend's face. Barbara's terror increased when she saw the red glow shining from deep within the thing's eyes. Time seemed to slow down and, at first, Barbara only watched in fear as she saw the Ruth Suit raise her hand and point one finger in a direct line with Barbara's heart. Barbara's hearing locked in onto the sound of a low chant. Although it came from Ruth's lips, it was in both a voice and a language that Barbara had never heard before. Taking a deep breath, Barbara finally let rip with a scream that ought to have shook the neighbourhood like an earthquake. Behind Ruth, something else had decided that enough was enough, and it raised itself up from the floor, it's muscles rippling, hackles forming a clear ridge along the length of it's broad back, lips pulled away to reveal the long, sharp teeth that were set into it's powerful jaw. Without a sound, Bryn hunched his front end down a touch, and readied himself to launch at the thing which _dare_ to threaten his human.

...

Sam hit the speed dial for Dean as he started to climb the stairs, listening in frustration to the unanswered rings as he made his way quickly to his room. Ending the call as the voice service kicked in, he hit the speed dial again.

"Come on Dean...Don't pull this crap on me now, answer your freakin' phone will you?"

When he got the voice service again, Sam left a curt message.

"She's figured something's wrong. Get out of there!."

He was about to try calling Dean a third time, when a bone chilling scream tore through the house. Sam didn't hesitate, he raced for the ensuite. As he grabbed an aerosol can of hairspray, the unmistakable sound of a large dog's snarl of fury swiftly followed on the heels of Barbara's scream.

...

Careering into the bedroom area, Sam yanked open the drawer of the bedside cabinet and grabbed the Zippo that he'd casually thrown in there when he'd unpacked. Making his way out of the bedroom, he clenched his hand tightly around the lighter and began to quietly mutter to himself under his breath. He continued to murmur softly even as he headed back downstairs at a run, accompanied by the sounds of screamed protests, of a dog attacking, and a powerful, rage filled voice, hurling out some kind of command.

...

With his arms firmly entangled and pinned within the sheeting, there was nothing that Dean could do to fight against the pressure around his neck and stop it from increasing. Growing ever tighter it finally cut off, totally, his ability to breathe. His lungs began to burn from the lack of air, his hands and feet began to tingle, then numbed completely as his system started to rapidly shut down. Head pounding, vision failing, Dean had time for one last fleeting thought, before his ineffective struggles ceased and his body slumped to lay still and lifeless. _Sorry Sammy..._

...

Sam skidded around the corner and into the lounge in time to hear Bryn's howl as the dog thudded against the back wall.

"**_Stop!_** You _stop!_ I'll kill you, you _fucking sick cow_! I'm gonna rip your shittin' **_heart_** out for that! How _dare _you hurt him? Whoever you _think_ you are, bitch...**_You're a_** **_fuckin' dead woman now!"_**

Sam watched in horror as an utterly enraged Barbara flung herself onto Ruth, scratching at her, clawing her and even biting deep into Ruth's shoulder whilst the woman desperately tried to push Barbara back. Running toward the two women, Sam used his own shoulder to barrel the fury that was hurricane Barbara out of the way as he flicked his lighter and stuck the flame into the flow of hairspray from his can. With a _whoosh_ he created himself a mini flamethrower, and stuck it in font of Ruth's face.

"I've got something for you, hag, hope you enjoy!"

Eyes blazing red fury, a shriek of crazed laughter burst out of Ruth's mouth, followed by a harsh, grating female voice who's drawn out "s" was like the hiss of a serpent.

"Sssstupid pathetic boy child..._that_ won't ssserve to harm **_me_**!"

**_"_****_Aγρia φwtiӑ!"_**

Sam shouted out the trigger needed to empower the spell he had set, and the jet of flame seemed to take on a life of it's own. Reaching and coiling out in eagerness, flaring around it's target, it licked at the creature's clothing, and took hold. Throwing her arms wide, the hag looked down at the flames consuming the top of the dress she wore in disbelief.

**_"Noooo!"_**

Through the spreading flames now scorching and blackening her neck and chest, she raised her head and glared directly into Sam's eyes.

**_"I curse you boy! I curse you and your kin! You will suffer...Be certain of it!"_**

And then she was gone...

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_A.N. Thank you for reading. I'm planning on getting another chapter up this weekend. Then from the end of the coming week, I'm going to be stuck at home for at least a couple of weeks and not able to go anywhere unless someone is with me, so I'll be trying to stop myself from going totally stir crazy by focusing on this story. _

_Also, please accept my apologies for my computer's limitations when it comes to writing in Greek!_

_Till next time_

_Chick xx_


	12. Chapter 12

_A.N. Here it is, as promised, another chapter to be going on with. Hope it reads ok. Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 12**

_I'll see you soon._

Sam stood, panting, staring fixedly at the spot where Hecate had been. It was the sound of Barbara, sobbing and murmuring broken words of comfort and reassurance from where she knelt by Bryn, which brought Sam back to the here and now. Gathering himself, he turned to find Barbara's pale, tear streaked face looking up at him whilst she stroked the dog.

"Sam...You _have_ to kill her...Promise me you'll do it? You'll make sure that bitch dies...for good!"

Sam walked over and knelt by Barbara, pulling her into a hug. As her sobs increased he nodded.

"I'll find a way. I will."

Bryn gazed up at Sam and whimpered. Reaching out, Sam gave the dog's ears a fondle.

"How's he doing?"

Barbara broke away from Sam's hug, returning her attention back to Bryn.

"He's just badly winded. He was trying to protect me. I think he managed to get a couple of good bites in before she ... Yes you did, didn't you my big, brave boy?"

Barbara looked at Sam again, fear clearly showing in her eyes.

"What about Ruth? How the fuck did she just go _poof_ like that? What the Hell is she? Oh! Friggin' Hell Sam...What about Dean? Did you talk to Dean?"

Sam took a deep breath, struggling to contain his own internal anxieties.

"No. There was no answer. I'm going over there, he...if Hecate's witchy worm-holed herself back to Ruth's...I..."

"Try him again, now."

Sam hesitated, then shook his head,

"I can't risk it. If he _is_ still in the house, there's a chance he might've seen Ruth appear without her spotting him; he could've managed to get hidden somewhere safe Last thing he'll need is his damn ring-tone starting up...

"He'll have it on silent, won't he?"

"Not a gamble I'm willing to take."

"But he could be in trouble, she might've zapped back right beside him! Sam...What if...?

"Barbara...Don't. It's Dean. He can handle himself,_ really_. We're Hunters. It's what we do, what we've always done; and it means we deal with this kinda shit every day. It's constant, it's dangerous, it's _definitely_ a pain in the ass. One of the very few things that helps us to keep us going, Keeps us in the game, is our absolute belief in each other's ability to survive; and knowing that we'll always have each other's back. I _have_ to assume he's ok. There's no other choice. Look, I need to put some stuff together, and I need to borrow your car. Is there somewhere you and Bryn can go? Someone you can stay with for a couple of days if necessary? Maybe an address that Ruth doesn't know?"

Barbara lowered her head, thinking.

"Donna! We could go to Donna's. She's never been a part of this idiotic coven thing, she's always said I shouldn't be playing at being something I didn't fully understand. _Boy_...was _she _ever right!"

"Ok. That sounds good. And she won't mind you turning up out of the blue?"

Barbara actually laughed at that.

"No, no way. Not Donna _or_ Turner, her husband. We'll not be the first to turn up at their door in some kind of crisis or other!"

Sam looked at Barbara seriously.

"Yeah? That's great, it is. But you gotta admit, this time it's a bit different to someone needing a shoulder to cry on. Any thoughts on what you might tell them?"

"Yeah. I'm going with the truth."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"_Barbara_...I'm not so sure..."

"Trust me Sam. These people? They'll cope. Also, Bryn loves them and the feeling's mutual. Take the car. I'll ask Turner to pick Bryn and me up. Just, _please_...I'll need to know that you and Dean are ok. You'll ring me, won't you? When you can? I'll give Bobby a call once I'm at Donna's, tell him everything that's happened, is that alright?"

Sam nodded.

"Of course. Let him know I'm going after Dean, but tell him to stay put. Best thing he can do to help? Find me a way to end this. Tell him that, will you? For now I suggest you hurry up and go pack what you'll need, keep it simple."

...

_Whispering. There was_ **_definitely_ **_whispering. That really irritating kind of whispering that means you can't make out one word, no matter how long you lay or how hard you try_.**_ Lay? Am I laying down then? Cause this bed? Not so comfy. No pillow. Wonder if Sammy stole it? He's in real biiiiggg trouble if'n he has, oh yeah baby brother! No...there's..Sammy? Something...there..someth...Shit!...Sheet! Sammy!...The shit, no, the sheet, the sheet killed me...Where...?_**

...

Sam's expression was grim as he threw his kit onto the passenger seat of Barbara's car. He felt bad about leaving Barbara alone to wait for her friend to arrive, but he didn't feel he had a choice. He _had_ to get to Dean. Turning the engine on he glanced at Barbara as she stood on the driveway, arms folded, watching.

"You sure this guy won't be long?"

"He's already set off. Me an' Bryn, we'll be fine. Go on...go get your brother. And Sam? As soon as you can, you make certain you give that bitch a good hard smack in the teeth from me, ok? Be careful, stay safe. Oh! Crap! I almost forgot...here."

Barbara held out a closed fist. Confused, Sam reached out his palm and Barbara dropped a thin coiled up piece of red yarn into it. Sam's eyes flicked up to hers.

"I'm not sure, but I think it helped. Old creepy knickers sure didn't like the touch of it. Way I see it, you need it more than me right now."

Sam carefully uncoiled the knotted yarn and laid it over his wrist whilst Barbara tied it in place. Sam gave her a warm smile.

"Thanks...I'll see you soon."

With that, he closed the drivers door and pulled away from Barbara's house. She stood, watching, until he rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight. Sighing, she looked down to where Bryn stood by her.

"How the Hell am I supposed to explain all this to Bobby?"

...

With every part of his being screaming out to hurry, it was hard for Sam not to simply ignore any speed restrictions in his desperation to get to Dean's location; and he cursed every set of lights that were against him whilst he sat, engine revving, waiting for them to change.

"She can be a real pain in the arse that one, can't she? Hecate I mean, obviously."

The car swerved in response to Sam's immediate shock at the unexpected passenger who suddenly materialised next to him.

"Whoa there Moose. Eyes on the road!"

"Crowley! What the _fu_...?"

"Really? Now Sammy...Where are your manners? That's the kind of language I'd expect of your erstwhile brother. Speaking of...How _is_ the scrumptious and yet strangely irritating one by-the-way? I see he's not with you? Not running away from him again, are you? I know that's become some sort of hobby of yours."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Until the next chapter! Give me a shout if you're out there and following the fic, just to say hello if nothing else, ok?_

_Huggles! (cross between hugs and cuddles)  
__Chick xxx_


	13. Chapter 13

_A.N. Message to "Guest" who left a review - Thank you. I was both embarrassed and pleased by your kind words. And I totally agree, I'm finding it harder and harder to find case type fics that try to stay true to the tone and style of the series. I admit though, I mostly stick to searching for "complete" stories as I've been caught out too many times getting into a story, only to find it either completely abandoned part way through, or updated so bloody infrequently, I loose the thread (and the will)._

_Chick x_

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

_Is it an earthquake?_

Sam simply glared at the King of Hell before turning his attention back onto the road, forcing down the urge to respond to Crowley's comments.

"Get out of the damn car."

"Really? After I've taken the time to come all this way?"

Sam sighed, his passenger was a distraction when what he needed was to focus, to come up with some kind of workable plan for when he got to Ruth's house. He had to get rid of Crowley.

"What do you want, asswipe?"

"Asswipe? That's the best you can manage? Hmm, well, I suppose you're not at your most eloquent right now. Feeling a teensy bit pressured are we? There, there."

"_Crowley!"_

_Alright_ Moose, calm down, no point getting your bra in a tangle! So...What do I want? I have to say, I honestly thought that we'd already had that conversation? Oh, wait. _We did!_ Sam, cupcake, you _do_ realise what a rare, actually no, scratch that. What a _unique_ opportunity this is, don't you? I am _offering_ you my help, _despite_ the constipation that it causes me! And, judging by your display of a complete lack of any advanced driving skills what-so-ever, I'm hazarding a guess that my arrival is as stunningly timely as ever. I assume you _are_ currently heading to my dear friend Hecate's location, in a completely heroic, although probably futile, attempt to rescue that idiotic brother of yours?"

"Let me make this clear for you Crowley...No one's actually said they _needed_ your help! So, hey! If you'd rather disappear again? Be my guest. Shoot yourself right back to Hell and have yourself a large dose of laxative"

To Sam's surprise, Crowley sighed.

"Sammy..._Sam_...Do you think it is at _all_ possible that we could forgo the usual jolly banter, and try having a civilised conversation for once? Declare some kind of truce for a short time? Not that I don't enjoy swapping insults with you, because I do, but I _am_ a little busy right now. You know, setting up home, organising audits, establishing outcome measures and the like. I've had to shuffle most of my week's diary just to squeeze in this little visit..."

"_Please_! Don't do me any favours, I'm pretty sure I can manage without you."

"_**Fine!**_ Don't say I didn't offer...Consider this though _**you bull headed ponce**_! Imagine that, by some..._**scarily**_ slim chance, you manage to defeat Hecate and rescue the princess...Without _**someone**_ keeping order, who's going to stop Hades from descending into chaos, and the effects then spilling over top side? Still...I'm sure you must know what you're doing...By-the-way, when you see the old crone, tell her she's in my thoughts will you?"

At last, Sam found himself alone in the car and he turned his thoughts back to the hunt.

...

_It was an earthquake, maybe, or? No. Not earthquake...Hands...it's hands, there's teeny tiny hands shaking me..._ "Wha...?"

"I _said_ wake up. You have to wake up. She's back. _Please_!"

The voice was that of a woman, Dean thought maybe he ought to be paying her some attention, _especially_ if her girlfriend was back. Angry boyfriends were bad enough, but _girlfriends_? Keeping his eyes firmly closed, Dean tried to bat her hands off him, but ended up simply waving at mid-air. He groaned. He was beginning to be aware of the fact that he felt stiff all over, his shoulders ached, and his throat hurt like a bitch. When he spoke, his voice was even more husky and gravely than usual, and it felt like he was trying to speak through a throat full of ground glass.

"Ok, ok...er...?"

"Sandra."

"Yeah, s'right. _Sandra._ M'wake...Juss a mo babe an' I'll..."

A hard slap across his face instantly startled Dean's eyes open. He found himself looking up into the face of a woman in her mid forties at least and, whilst the age thing wasn't always an issue for him, in all other respects she was _definitely_ not his type. She stared back down at him, her less than average features currently wearing a mixture of worry and impatience. Confused, Dean felt no sense of recognition. _So,_ _maybe she...I...we...didn't?_

"Erm...Have we met?"

Whilst the woman herself didn't move her lips, Dean heard the definite sound of someone whispering. Realising that the sound came from his other side, opposite Sandra, Dean turned his head to see who else was with them. What he saw was nothing more than a loose, shimmering, smoky form.

"How should I know? Maybe his brain was too long without oxygen, or maybe he was always this slow."

As Sandra answered the whispering cloud, Dean's memory of where he was, along with what had happened to him, suddenly kicked in. The impact was instantaneous. Dean moved from being laid out on the floor, to sat up and shifting backwards, crab like, away from Sandra and the haze, within a fraction of a second. His journey ended when he hit his back against a wall. Dean quickly made use of it to haul himself upright, gulping when the rapid change in altitude caused a brief surge of dizziness.

"Who the Hell are you lady, and what the _fuck's_ with the whispering wispy stuff over there?"

Before Sandra could answer another, very powerful, female voice was heard. This one came from somewhere external to the room. It sounded to Dean like it was coming from somewhere else completely within the house, and it sounded absolutely furious.

"_Where the Hell are you half-wit? Bring your ssscrawny backssside here, __**right now**__! We've got work. __**You hear me moussse? **__**Five ssseconds,**__ then I __**drag**__ you to me. __**One...Two...Three..**_

...

Sandra looked terrified. Dean watched her face pale and saw the tears well up in her eyes as she frantically backed toward the door. Fear filled eyes pleaded with Dean.

"Stay here. Don't make a _sound_...I...I'll try to calm her down. Becky, stay with him. If she comes up here, try to distract her. I'd better..."

Sandra shot out of the room, silently closing the door behind her.

"_I...I'm here. I'm coming. Hecate...__**Mistress**__...I'm coming_."

...

For a moment Dean simply stared at the closed door, his mind working overtime. _Shit! Queen Bitch is here? What's gone wrong? Why no text? Sonovabitch. If she's hurt Sam or Barbara! Gotta get out, gotta ... Huh?_

Dean suddenly turned his focus to the ghost like cloud formation which still swirled and hovered close by.

"_Becky?_ She called you Becky. As in Becky...Barbara's friend Becky? Is that who you are...were...are, whichever?"

The smoke began to undulate faster, then blurred and disappeared, only to re-form a split second later closer to Dean. Once again there was the kiss of a cool breath of air on his face.

"_Help meeee."_

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. So, I start my stuck at home period as of today. My list of "how to stay entertained" includes being able to devote time to this fic, although it's not the only thing on my list of low activity entertainments. _Actually, _reading the previous sentence, I thought maybe I should clarify! Low activity entertainments being things like painting and stuff - for those of you with dirty minds __**;**__ )_

_Chick xx_


	14. Chapter 14

_A.N. To anyone still hanging in there with this. Your tenacity is impressive! Your reviews are really appreciated (and some of them have me outright laughing). Your support makes all my thoughts of _crap - what happens next?_ worth it :)_

_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 14**

_Truth and Lies_

Sandra tore down the staircase leading into the entrance hall at break neck speed, more afraid of the thing inhabiting her friends body than of the risk of broken bones should she miss her footing. Even so, when she caught a glimpse of the creature stood, hands on hips, waiting for her; Sandra couldn't help her momentary pause, or the fact that she kept her eyes on the mistresses' face far longer than she was generally allowed. It was a struggle for Sandra to reign in her desire to smile as she noted the ragged, soot coated edges of the holes burnt into the neckline and bodice of the dress the creature wore. Sandra was even more delighted to see the deep, penetrating burns showing on the thing's chest, neck and chin.

...

As soon as the terrified woman was within reach, Hecate shot one hand out and grasped Sandra's shoulder, digging her fingers into the sensitive nerve points as she hauled Sandra closer, so close that Sandra could feel the fine spray of spittle hitting her face as the creature spoke, her voice now low and threatening.

"You pathetic ssssnivelling sssurfeit of lizard'sss entrails..._**Where...isss...he**_?"

Hecate's fingers pushed deeper into the vulnerable parts of Sandra's shoulder, the pain forcing the smaller woman down to her knees, sobbing and whimpering.

"_Pleeease _Mistress. It hurts, _stop_, please stop. There's nobody..._**I swear**_...nobody, _nobody at all_...

The crushing grip eased and Sandra felt herself grow limp in relief, until Hecate bent down low, bringing her mouth level with Sandra's ear. Her amused whisper brought about a chill that lodged itself deep into Sandra's bones.

"I can ss_smell_ him...on your handsss...you sssstupid, ssshrivelled up sssshrew. So, let's do that again...Where _isss_ he?

Sandra's voice was little more than a crushed sob.

"The attic, Mistress."

Straightening up, Hecate reached out and began gently stroking her hand across the top of Sandra's head. She smiled down at the quaking woman.

"There. That wassn't so hard. Why didn't you just sssay that when I assked you the firsst time? You _are_ a ssilly little thing my sssweet. Up you get now, and go fetch him down to me, there'sss a good girl."

Her knees now weak with gratitude, Sandra stumbled in her eagerness to rise and do as she was asked.

"I will...I will Mistress. I'm sorry I didn't tell you first time. It was wrong of me, I'm sorry. I'll get him for you. I will."

...

Dusk had set in when Sam parked up a few yards back from the entrance to Ruth's drive. Turning the engine off, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. The plan he had formulated consisted of attempting to approach the house unnoticed, hoping to get inside whilst remaining unnoticed, and then...Well, he would just take things from there. Sam didn't bother trying to convince himself that it was anything other than what it was...a completely _crappy_ plan...A plan that had a huge neon sign over it saying _This Sucks! _Even worse_, _Sam knew it was _exactly_ the kind of half baked plan that Dean would've come up with! The only other possibility that might give him an advantage, was if Bobby had uncovered anything useful. Pushing down the thought that if Bobby _had_ got something for him, then he would have called, Sam rang the older hunter anyway.

...

Bobby had nothing. No definitive way to gank a witch as uniquely powerful as the Queen Bee herself, and although he assured Sam that he hadn't given up trying, Sam could tell from his voice that Bobby was deeply worried. Knowing that did nothing to assuage Sam's own anxiety levels. With a deep sigh, he reached for his kit bag and began to arm himself as best he could. His gun was first. Not knowing whether it would make any difference, he had loaded it with silver bullets which had also been blessed. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. A couple of vials of holy water went into the chest pocket of his jacket, along with his lock-picks and the Zippo. Next he stuffed a hex bag inside his tee shirt. Fairly effective against everyday witchcraft, he had no idea whether it would be helpful against someone as powerful as Hecate herself. He had _much_ more confidence in Ruby's knife, and he smiled as he hung the weapon through his belt.

...

"Becky, I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I'm going to help you, I _am_. But I gotta get out of here first; so either make yourself useful somehow, or just back off and stop getting all swirly in my face! Much closer an' I'll be breathin' in freakin' ghost smoke!.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.Really? _Not_ a ghost? What then?.,.,.,.,.,...A shade huh? Ok...So how's that different? Look, d'you mind hovering over there? Don't really want to push this thing straight through you.,.,.,.What? _Phantom. _Hmm, hate to be the one to break this to you lady, but that's just a fancy name for _ghost_...Ok, that's in about the right position. What?..,.,.,..,..,.,.,.Does it mean you're dead? Erm...Ok...Well..._I've _died before now, but here I am, alive, adorable and...still trapped. So, dead? Not dead? Whatever you are, seems to me it's not always necessarily a permanent state. Do me a favour? Keep watching those dust sheets, make sure they stay sheety.,.,.,.,.,.Sorry? That was the others? _What_ others Becky?"

...

Dean's questioning was interrupted by the sound of running footsteps which came to a halt outside the attic room. Ducking behind the packing case that he had positioned under the skylight, Dean reached behind himself, relieved to find the glock still at his back. Staying hidden, he had the gun in hand, safety off, as the door was shoved open. For a brief moment, the only sound was the panting breaths of the runner who now stood in the open doorway, staring into the dim room.

"_Nooo_...Can't have! Can't have gone! Boy? Mister? Are...are you still in here?"

Dean's body relaxed when he heard Sandra's voice, and he straightened up from behind the box.

"Sandra. Yeah, I'm here, and the name's Dean. What's happening?"

Wringing her hands together nervously, Sandra walked further into the room. Dean noted that the woman seemed even more on edge than previously, he frowned.

"What's wrong Sandra?"

The timid looking woman shook her head.

"No..._Dean_. There's nothing. It's just...She's gone, the Mistress. She went out again so, so you should come with me and you can get out of here"

Everything about the woman pushed Dean's senses into overdrive, he didn't trust her, her whole manner was off, and Dean instinctively grasped his gun a little firmer.

"You sure about that Sandra? 'Cos you look kinda nervous there. Did you _watch_ her leave? You don't think you might've made a mistake?"

Right then and there, Dean hoped that Sandra never made the decision to start playing any serious poker. Her eyes flicked over to where Becky's current form hovered, when she brought her gaze back to Dean, she pointedly kept her eyes lowered, focusing somewhere around the centre of his chest. Dean could actually _see_ the rate of her breathing speed up, and the rate at which she agitatedly rubbed her hands together increase.

"Sandra?"

Still refusing to meet Dean's eyes, the woman gave a quick nod of her head.

"Yes. I saw her leave, but she's not going to be gone long. We have to go..._now_...Please? We need to be quick."

In his peripheral vision, Dean was aware that that Becky's phantom form was pulling into itself, then swirling apart, Dean could almost feel the distress radiating out from the ever shifting form. Lowering the glock, Dean let out a weary sigh. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, matter of fact.

"I'm sorry Sandra, but I _know_ you're lying. You're afraid. She's down there, waiting, isn't she? She told you to come and get me. What did she do Sandra? Threaten to hurt you? Force you to tell her I was up here? Or, did she know already? Which was it Sandra?"

"_No!_ No...you're wrong. She's gone out. She _has!_ You've got to come with me, then you'll see for yourself. We can't stay here, we have to go downstairs _now_."

Sandra raised her eyes, to find Dean looking back at her sadly. He could clearly see the desperation in the woman, her expression filled with fright, her eyes wide and pleading. At last, Dean nodded in resignation, and Sandra let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's just get this over with...Lead the way."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. That's it for now. Thoughts, comments, critiques all welcome and answered.  
__I wish you all good dreams.  
__Chick xx_


	15. Chapter 15

_A.N. Cooeee, I'm back again! Really didn't expect to be able to post again so quickly - just don't get used to it! _

_Also, just to clarify, the Sam parts in this chapter, (and most likely the next), are not exactly occurring in parallel with the Dean Parts. In this chap. The Dean parts are happening ahead of the Sam parts, but I wanted anyone reading to know what was happening with both brothers. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll figure it as things progress and, in the not to distant future, the time lines will come into sync. :D_

_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

_The Others_

Keeping to the shadows of the trees, Sam carefully manoeuvred closer to the house. Crouching low, he moved quickly across to the nearest side of the building, out of immediate view from the front entrance door, and from any rear door which he surmised there was likely to be. Once he was safely over the area of open driveway, he straightened up again. Flattening himself with his back up against the stone facade, he took stock. Although the tall sash windows on the ground floor were covered by heavy curtains that were pulled closed, there were enough occasional cracks between the fabric to tell him that there were lights on inside, at least on this floor. There was still just enough pale indigo blue in the darkening sky to enable Sam to see without the need for a torch. Silent as a wraith, he followed the wall, heading in the direction of the rear of the house, his eyes scanning around and above, searching for a way to get inside that enabled him to avoid using the accepted route, via the front door. In fact, a possible alternative entry presented itself quite quickly. Sam squatted down to take a closer look.

...

Like all buildings of it's period, originally the house had been heated by open fires. Sam was looking at the inlet to the old coal chute, down which loose coal would have been poured by the sack load, building up into a dusty black mountain in the cellar below. Unused for many years, the square hole in the floor right at the base of the wall was half covered with the tattered remnants of a damp and fungus riddled piece of plywood. Grey ropes of ancient, dust coated, cobwebs draped themselves like the dead relics of Christmas tinsel across most of the entrance hole. Sam grimaced. He'd no idea how far it was from this opening down to the cellar floor below, or indeed what might have been stored down there at some point and would now be waiting for him to crash land on it. Even getting himself through the hole would _definitely_ be a squeeze; and there was no way on this earth, or any other, that he would be able to avoid getting _absolutely_ coated in dirt and grime. Not that Sam was worried about that in itself, but he couldn't help his small cringe at the mental image of any attempt to move around indoors without being seen proving fruitless, in the wake of an obvious trail of filthy footprints and fingerprints screaming out _Sammy's here! _Sam stood up again. Filing the coal chute under _last resort_, he continued to creep along the house walls, hoping to find a better alternative.

...

Sandra scurried down the stairs from the attic, frequently glancing back as if to reassure herself that Dean was still, slowly, following. Becky's shade streamed after Sandra, curling and flowing around the woman's face, her form drifting apart and then gathering itself into a more solid ball of smoke in a fast repeating pattern. Sandra attempted to waff the shade away from her face, with very little effect.

"Becky..._Please_ stop it. There's nothing you can do. Get back up to the attic, go bother the others. Dean will be fine with me."

Behind Sandra Dean frowned, and ground to a halt at the bottom of the attic stairs.

"That's the second time I've heard that, though I wasn't sure I had it right the first time. Who exactly are these _others_ you're talking about?"

Sandra turned, and saw that Dean had stopped moving. She scurried back to him and grabbed onto one of his wrists, attempting to force him to move again by trying to tow him along after her. Dean simply shook her hand off him, then opened his mouth to speak...

"_**Hurry up**_ _**now**__, you dissseasse riddled harlot! Or do __**I**__ have to come up __**there**_? _**Ansswer**_ _**me, you leaking pussstule!"**_

Dean closed his mouth and calmly gazed at Sandra. The woman stood, seemingly frozen to the spot, her cheeks burning red. Sandra's eyes were wide with fear and guilt as she stared back at Dean, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

...

Dean gave Sandra a tight, humourless smile, his voice betraying none of the internal fight or flight drivers, or the rapid thought processes, he was currently experiencing.

"Oops! Hear that Sandra?...Seems your mistress wasn't out long at all, was she? I'm guessin' she don't like waiting? Still, that's _your_ problem, not mine. See.._.I'm_ not taking one more step, not till you tell about the _others_."

Dean crossed his arms and stood "at ease" as if to reinforce his words. He was aware of the shade gently creating patters in the air at the side of him. Dean had the clear impression that somehow the shade too was staring at Sandra, waiting for the petit woman to decide her next move.

...

Sandra's shoulders sagged, and she lowered her head to stare down at her own feet. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a resigned whisper.

"Alright...Alright just...can we carry on downstairs now? I'll tell you on the way."

Dean paused momentarily, then began to move along the landing, heading to the next staircase which would lead them down onto the first floor. Sandra scampered after him, keeping as close to Dean's back as she could.

"I'm all ears."

"There were three others before Becky. Two men and a young woman, she couldn't have been more than 19 or 20 years old. For a while they were all like Becky, hanging around like smoke; but then something changed and gradually they seemed to get smaller, until they were little more than agitated wisps in the air. But then they began to shrink further, and at the same time they began to become _very_ angry. After another couple of days, I couldn't see them at all anymore. But they're still here, still full of rage. They want revenge. It was the mistress who killed their human bodies, but they don't seem to be able to hurt her somehow. They tried to go for me instead at first. Once, they pushed me all the way down the main stairs into the foyer. I was _really_ lucky not to break my neck. The mistress, she cast a spell or something over me, and they leave me alone now. It was them who wrapped you up in the dust sheet. Becky saw what was happening and came to get me. I was almost too late, actually thought I _was_ at first! I told them the mistress would punish them if they hurt you again."

By the time she finished speaking, Sandra was leading Dean toward the top of the final flight of stairs, the same ones that the others had pushed her down, and which swept gracefully down into the black and white tiled entrance foyer. Arriving at the top step of the staircase, Sandra suddenly came to an abrupt halt. From behind her, Dean saw the woman's body tense, saw her reach out and grasp the handrail for support. Dean looked past Sandra and down into the foyer. Gazing back up at him, unblinking, were the glowing, deep red embers that were the eyes of Hecate, staring directly at him from out of the face of the woman once known as Ruth.

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Once again, any comments and feedback appreciated. It doesn't take long to do, honest!_

_Chick xxx_


	16. Chapter 16

_A.N. Ahh, _crap_. That's what happens when you've no Beta! I've just quickly read all through this thing on line (once I finally found it) and now I'm gonna have to do some back tracking editing where I've missed the odd word and stuff. Didn't anybody notice? _

Also_, how come when I read anything I've written, it always seems so _childish_? Pissed off at myself now!_

_Chick xx :(_

* * *

**CHAPTER 16**

_Dean and Hecate meet for the first time._

Turning the corner leading to the back of the house, Sam found himself stepping up onto a stone patio area. Glancing around, he frowned. Situated on the patio, not far from the house, was a long wooden table. Stood on it, Sam could see three or four wine bottles, each partially emptied. Scattered around, both on the stone flags and on the area of lawn running off from it, he noticed what appeared to be the debris of a buffet. Plastic wineglasses lay abandoned on the grass. There was broken glass where empty wine bottles had been blown off the table by the wind to shatter against the stone. Moving closer he saw that the top of the table, along with the handful of serving dishes which were too heavy to have been blown away, were covered in bird and rat droppings, where the remnants of food had been greedily scavenged. The corpses of wasps floated on the surface of what wine was still the in the bottles on the table. To one side of the table, sat on the lawn, he spotted a wicker hamper, it's lid flung open, revealing some grubby, shit covered yellow fabric. More of the fabric had been carried by the wind and become entangled here and there in shrubs and amongst the branches of trees. Sam recalled Barbara's description of the urine yellow robes they had all been forced to wear for the ritual to summon the spirit of Hecate; the ritual that Barbara had, initially, assumed was just a bit of harmless fun, not to be taken seriously because, clearly, such things were nothing more than fantasy and folk law. Sam gave a humourless smile as he took in the mess that had simply been left since that night. It seemed that Hecate wasn't much of a homemaker. He turned away and went back to his task.

...

Sam had inspected most of the outside of the house and was becoming more disgruntled as darkness fell. His last resort was beginning to look very much like it had moved up the ranks to become only option after an unsuccessful search for open and accessible windows. He was now backtracking, hoping that maybe he had missed something, his gut telling him that he hadn't. In the shadowed areas he was moving by instinct, touch and memory. In those patches where the rising full moon lit his way, it's silver light also made him more vulnerable to being observed. Approaching the side of the house where the coal chute was sited, Sam gave a quiet sigh. _Just my friggin' luck_. The moon wasn't yet high enough to provide any light on this side of the building. He was going to have to do this in complete darkness. Sam gazed up at the crystal moon set into the clear night sky, taking a last look before he turned the corner into the dark, and hesitated. Something was prodded at his memory.

...

Sam frowned in concentration. _Something about the moon, what the Hell is it? Come on Sam, think, think...Hecate, Goddess of the moon...Goddess... _When it finally came to him, he felt a sudden, small, flicker of hope. _Hecate, Goddess of the __**dark**__ moon!_ _So...maybe?_ He closed his eyes, raking through the knowledge gained from his research, only to come up empty. He couldn't recall anything he'd read which suggested that Hecate's powers were weakened by the full moon. But, experience told him that it _might_ be the case, and right now Sam was prepared to cling on to _any_ potential gain. With renewed determination, Sam began to head straight for the entrance to the coal chute, that is, until he heard a sound which froze him to his core. It was an all too familiar voice shouting out in horror and anger, seemingly coming from behind one of the nearby curtained windows. The cry, and it's abrupt cut off, caused Sam's stomach to lurch in a combination of fear and fury.

"_**No! Fuck! Ah, shit! You fugly bastard, I'm gonna rip..."**_

...

Hecate's mouth twisted into a cruel smile of pleasure as she drank in her first sight of Sam's older sibling.

"Why! Look! If it issn't the _other one_. Sssandra! Do ssstop your dithering for goodness' ssake and bring the boy down to me. I've been _ssssooo_ looking forward to meeting you young man. Dean, isssn't it? I'm delighted to ssssee you up and around. I understand that you were quite unwell...I asssume you are feeling much better now?"

Sandra turned her head towards Dean, her expression both betraying her sadness, and begging him to just, _please_, go down the stairs and don't do anything that will anger the mistress. Eyes wet with tears, she silently mouthed _I'm sorry_. Dean smiled back at her, pausing long enough to offer the woman some reassurance, before he moved past her and began to make his own way down to Hecate.

"It's fine Sandra, _really_. It's not your fault, ok?"

He didn't wait for the woman to reply. Turning away from her, he strolled down the stairs and sauntered over to Hecate, coming to a halt a few feet in front of her. He glanced around the foyer and gave an appreciative whistle before facing Hecate again, a broad smile on his face.

"Nice place you've hijacked. I wouldn't get too comfy though, you're not gonna be staying long. What'ssssss with the ssssssspeech impediment?"

Dean's line of sight drifted down to the scorched and burnt areas of the woman's dress. He noticed, above the tattered neckline, a number of areas on the witches chest and face that looked like patches of new skin healing over old burns. Dean pointed to the blackened and melted fabric.

"Did you know you've got a stain on your dress?"

Hecate tilted her head to one side, contemplating the human who stood before her, apparently unafraid. When she spoke again, Dean heard a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh, yesss! Good...You and I? I can ssee that we're going to have fun together, my pretty one."

She moved closer to Dean, who held his ground when the witch leaned forward and peered into his eyes.

"Sssuch a lovely colour! You know? I do believe I can make usse of thossse."

Dean surprised the creature by boldly stepping even closer, until mere inches were all that separated them from each other. The smile left his face as he held the witches gaze, ensuring she maintained her attention and focus on his eyes.

"Well...I'm afraid you're out of luck, _ssssscumbag_...'Cos they're already taken."

Halfway down the stairs, Sandra clamped her hands over her ears and screamed as a crescendo of sound from three gun shots, fired in rapid succession, echoed around the foyer; and Hecate collapsed to the floor like a rag doll.

...

Still gripping his gun, Dean turned, holding his free hand out towards Sandra, who still stood on the stairs with her _own_ hands now held over her mouth. Trembling with shock, tears streamed unchecked down her face.

"_Sandra!_ Come on! We need to get out of here, _now_!"

The urgency in Dean's voice forced Sandra to tear her eyes away from the body of her old friend. With a short nod, she began to make her way unsteadily down to the waiting hunter. As soon as she was within reach, Dean placed a hand on her back. With a quick glance over his shoulder to check that Hecate was still down, he steered Sandra in front and towards the door to the outside world. Reaching past the terrified woman, he grasped the door handle and pulled.

"_Dammit_! I'd left it unlocked...Where's the key kept Sandra?

"I...I don't know. I've tried to find it lots of times, but..."

"Ok...No problem, it's easy enough to deal with. Just keep it together for a minute while I get this. Can you do that for me?"

For the second time, Dean squatted down and turned his focus on to unpicking the lock. As he worked, Sharon's hand timidly touched him lightly on his shoulder.

"Dean? I think maybe it's got colder. Can you feel it?"

Dean watched as his breath began to crystallise in the air. With a groan he leaned his forehead against the wood of the door.

"Really? _Jeeze_, gimme a friggin' break here! _Fine_! Bear with me Sandra, I've just about got..."

Dean never finished his sentence. Without further warning an invisible entity lifted him up, away from the door and into the air, rocketing him toward the solid wooden handrail of the stairway. Dean hit the rail with his back, the force of the blow driving all the air out of his lungs. His consciousness swiftly ebbed away before the hold on his body was withdrawn, leaving him to crash land bonelessly onto the floor tiles.

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm _really _sorry! __* Evil grin *_

_Chick xx_


	17. Chapter 17

_A.N. So, who's big idea was it to give Hecate the ssssserpentine sssspeech pattern? I never realised how many times I used the letter "S" in my fics, till now! _**:**o  
_Chick xx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 17**

_A plea for Sandra_

The slow road to awareness was a painful one, and the journey was accompanied by the sounds of a woman's broken sobbing. A groan escaped from his lips before he could reign it in, and the sudden hiccupping break in the female's crying told Dean that the sound had been heard. A firm shove against his ribs which was effective in rolling him off his stomach where he lay and onto his back, served to underline the fact that his return to consciousness had, indeed, been noticed. The lack of any gentleness in bringing about the enforced change in his position drew another moan out of him, and the sound of the voice that responded caused him a momentary surge of frustration and disquiet.

"Let me sssee those pretty eyess of yourss. Look at me, man child!"

Dean stubbornly screwed his eyes closed more tightly.

"Don' wanna. You're _fugly_."

Two hands, with a grip far more powerful than they had the right to be, given the age of the body they belonged to, grabbed tight hold of the front of Dean's over shirt and forcefully yanked him up into a sitting position, showing no regard at all for his badly bruised back.

"_Don't __**dare**__ toy with me boy!_ My patiencssse is very limited. Open your eyesss and tell me **_who...you...are_**!"

Dean's eyes obediently flickered open, and he found himself staring into the depths of Hecate's glowing red orbs. He blinked heavily and, at the same time, gave the witch a cheeky, half dazed, smile.

"Ok...Parrently, I'm your _toy boy_."

...

Unfamiliar with the modern day interpretation of Dean's phrase, Hecate smiled without humour.

"Oh, yessss. _That_ you are little man...That you are."

Still clutching firmly onto Dean, the witch glanced back over her shoulder to where Sandra knelt on the floor in a corner of the room, her tear stained face and red puffy eyes having the effect of causing her to look even _more_ like a despairing dormouse.

"Get up off your knees ssslave. Bring me alcohol, and girl? _Don't_ keep me waiting."

Dean watched in silence as Sandra wearily clambered to her feet and half walked, half staggered, out of the room, keeping her eyes averted from her mistress. Sandra's whole body spoke to him of defeat; she looked to have given up. She seemed like a woman who could no longer bring herself to care whether she lived or died. The sight of Sandra's complete domination at the hands of Hecate fuelled Dean's temper, as well as renewing his resolve to try to take down this creature holding onto him, no matter _what_ the cost to himself. Feeling more alert as a result of his increasing anger, Dean turned back to the witch. Gazing up and down at her, he noticed that the thing had changed it's clothing whilst he was out cold. She was now dressed in well cut mint green trousers and a simple white, slash necked, long sleeved, silk top. Dean raised one eyebrow. The incongruity between her outward appearance of a handsome, designer clad woman in her fifties, and the creature which he knew to be inhabiting the body, was not lost on Dean.

"Nice outfit. Though I gotta tell you, I kinda liked the whole _singed_ effect you had going on before. Guess the bullet holes didn't work for you?...Why don't you let Sandra go?"

Hecate contemplated Dean curiously.

"Does the woman matter to you? Does her fate have meaning?"

"What you've done to her matters. She doesn't deserve _any_ of this. She's never been a threat to you. Let her go... You've got me."

"Yesssss. Indeed, so I have."

...

Bizarrely, and very much to his complete disgust, the witch leaned closer in to Dean's face and began to sniff the air immediately around him, scenting him like a dog would. Dean waited, refusing to acknowledge his instinctive desire to pull away. Finally, the thing drew back. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised Dean further, as if only now assessing him.

"You have visited my crossroadssss little man..._You have experienced Hell_! And yet...You live! How _is_ thisss? _**Tell **_me! Anssswer me truthfully boy and, _maybe,_ I _ssshall_ let the ssshrew go, as you requesssst. So, again I ask, who..._**are...**_you?"

Before Dean could formulate a response, Sandra shuffled quietly back into the room, carrying a circular silver tray on which was stood a full bottle of The Glenlivit single malt whisky, along with two crystal tumblers. She drew to a halt, continuing to keep her eyes averted, and submissively awaited Hecate's next instructions. Hecate didn't bother to even glance towards Sandra, her focus remaining firmly fixed on Dean.

"Put that down on the table over there, then I want all the curtains on thiss floor closing, ssstarting in here. Wassste no time and return to me immediately your tasssk is complete..._Immediately. _Go now; do as I have ordered."

Almost as though she were in a trance, or under some kind of thrall, Sandra moved off to carry out the duties allocated to her.

...

Without warning, Hecate swiftly adjusted her grip on Dean, clasping him with one hand around the bicep of his left arm. Despite the fact that her hand wasn't close to being large enough to entirely circle the muscle, when Hecate stood, she raised Dean to his feet alongside her with very little show of any effort on her part. Dean gasped as the sudden movement jolted his back. Ignoring the pain she caused him, the witch casually steered Dean across to an armchair situated next to the antique side table on which Sandra had set the whisky and glasses. The sheer physical strength being displayed by the supernatural creature amazed Dean, though he made no comment. With a slight shove, Hecate deposited Dean into the chair. Dean grinned cockily up at the witch.

"Thanks."

Hecate stood, hands on hips and glared down at him.

"I ssshall not asssk again boy, reveal to me your purpossse."

Dean's expression grew serious.

"You'll let the woman go?"

Hecate's smile was nothing short of predatory.

"As you wisssh."

Trying to ignore the growing feeling that he was missing something, something important, Dean nodded.

"Ok...You're right...I made a deal at a crossroads once. I was given one year, and when my time was up, I spent 40 years in Hell. Satisfied? Also, things like you? I've been killing them all my life...I'm a Hunter, and _your_ kind? You're nothin' more than my prey."

Silence hung in the air as Hecate stood, digesting what she had just been told. Dean could tell that whilst her eyes were still on him, it wasn't actually him she was seeing, lost in her own thoughts as she currently was. Sandra silently crept back into the room, and hesitated. She dared to shoot a questioning look across to Dean, who responded with an infinitesimal shake of his head. Uncertain what else to do, Sandra simply stood and, like Dean, she waited...

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Until next time, to anyone reading, give yourself a big hug from me. My warm thanks to the wonderful group of people who are keeping in touch and by their comments, keeping this going. **You know who you are my friends, and I am so grateful to you.** As I write this, I'm now six days into my enforced convalescence, and the nightmares? Well...  
__On the up side, damn near gave my other half heart failure in the early hours as I yelled **both** of us awake! Only funny over coffee later though.  
__At the time I was glad he was there, and knew how to calm me down. **He**, apparently, was just grateful I didn't punch him or anything, which, I confess, I've sometimes done in the past, (and **boy**, does he usually go on and on about it the next day) **:** ) Chick xxx_


	18. Chapter 18

_A.N. 3.30am, and another long, horrendous nightmare. So far had a grand total of 90 minutes sleep. I _hate _it! So, instead of sleep and more nightmares, here I am, doing something fun and fluffy instead._

_Chick :(_

**CHAPTER 18**

_Promises Kept_

It felt like an age, although it was actually only a few seconds, before Hecate turned her head to acknowledge Sandra's return. Saying nothing to the cowed woman, she directed her attention back to Dean. She seemed genuinely curious when she spoke to him again, her voice surprisingly soft and quiet.

"In my time I have become many things to many people...You sssay you are a Hunter? I sssay to you that I, Hecate, am the Goddesss of all hunters, as my sister is Goddesss to the hunt. Why, then, do you not worssship me child?"

Dean lowered his gaze briefly. When he met the Goddess' eyes again, his own were cold and contemptuous.

"Because you are a monster."

...

Something in the creature's quiet response chilled Dean, and re-ignited his sense that he had stupidly overlooked something, something he may regret. Hecate nodded thoughtfully.

"Ssso be it."

Without taking her eyes off of Dean, she held up one hand and beckoned Sandra to come to her. In fearful obedience, Sandra hurried to her mistress' side, flinching when the witch laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

"We made a deal Hunter. You would tell me of your purpossse, and in return I agreed to your desire that I ssshould releassse thisss woman. I now make good that promissse."

Removing her hand from Sandra, Hecate finally looked at the bewildered woman and, to Sandra's amazement, smiled down at her. Sandra's eyes opened wide and, her expression bathed in gratitude, she turned toward Dean; as Hecate muttered something too low for Dean to make out, at the same time, waving her hand just once past Sandra's face. The smaller woman's head instantly snapped to one side. Sandra crumpled to the floor at Hecate's feet, her eyes still wide, though unseeing, as she lay dead, her neck clearly broken.

Dean cried out in shock and fury as he swiftly sought to rise to his feet.

"_**No! Fuck! Ah, shit! You fugly bastard, I'm gonna rip..."**_

...

"**Ϭιωπή**_!"_

Hecate's eyes flared laser red as she cried out her command, and Dean's rage driven threat died in his throat as she silenced his voice with one word. Another wave of her hand, and Dean felt a solid force shove him back into the chair and hold him in place. Helpless, all he could do was glare at the witch in open hostility and hatred. Moving swiftly, Hecate strode up to Dean, she placed a hand either side of him on the arms of the chair, supporting herself as she leaned in toward him, a sneer on her face.

"A promisssse kept, boy. The pathetic female was already dead. Ssshe died when the others threw her down the ssstairs. Only through my magic did sshe have the semblanccce of life. Even _sssshe_ did not realise her miserable little life was already ended. Now ssshe is releassed, as you wanted..._Hunter_. Hear me now, as I make you one further promissse...Your own death will _not_ be ssso ssswift, nor ssshall it be ssso painlesssss."

Hecate began to laugh and she poured herself a generous shot of whisky, raising her glass in salutation towards Dean, as she watched him struggle in silence against the force that held him, all to no avail.

...

Sliding the rotten remnants of the plywood away from the cellar entrance with his foot, Sam shrugged off his jacket and buttoned up his flannel over shirt to cover his tee at the same time, hoping at least to save both jacket and tee from the inevitable filth associated with his necessary use of this particular route to the inside of the house. Bending, he cleared away the ancient cobwebs as best he could. That done, he wrapped his jacket into a bundle, making certain the contents of the jacket pockets were secure within it. He hesitated briefly, deciding whether or not to throw the bundle down the hole first. Choosing to keep it tucked under one arm, Sam grimaced as he began the unpleasant task of wriggling and lowering himself, feet first, into the pitch black of the cellar below.

...

At first there was some relief as his feet found the sloping metal of the chute itself. Unfortunately, it was short lived. Lowering himself further, one foot was suddenly dangling in mid air as the chute came to an abrupt end, revealing itself to only be around three feet in length. There was no alternative, Sam was simply going to have to let himself fall, try to keep his body relaxed, and hope his landing didn't hurt _too_ badly. Positioning himself as best he could to make use of the chute to help guide his fall, Sam silently counted up to three, then gave in to gravity. At the instant he felt the harsh jar of his feet contacting with solid ground, Sam let his knees flex and his body roll, whilst keeping his head up. He grunted as his left shoulder landed on something sharp, and his left knee made contact with something equally painful laying around on the cellar floor. Breathing in, straight away he could both taste and feel a mixture of dirt and coal dust enter his mouth and airways, as his ungraceful landing disturbed the thick coating that covered the old stone flooring; at the same moment his heart missed a beat, when he heard the awful sound of a bone snap.

...

Gritting his teeth, he braced himself for the agony, an agony which didn't flare. Slightly disorientated from the force of his landing into the total darkness, his mind was slow to process the implication raised by his lack of pain from breaking a bone. But soon enough, he caught on, _Oh...Shit! Please, no!_

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_A.N. Comparatively short, hints of daybreak, so going to try for more sleep. Any and all errors in this chapter are purely down to being knackered!_

_Chick xxx_


	19. Chapter 19

_A.N. by Chick_

**The Writer's Remit**

_The role of a writer of fiction is equal parts foster carer and facilitator. It is the writer's duty to try to keep the peace. To pacify and calm the headstrong story. To be there, ready with a shoulder to cry on, and a handy map of the way home should the story wander off of it's own accord, only to find itself lost. The writer must also possess the skills of a shepherd; being able to gather the more wilful characters back from wherever each of them thinks they ought to be, or think they want to be, and to encourage them instead to go to the pen where their less stubborn friends will be waiting for them. The writer, by nature, will achieve these things with love and care and appropriate words. __**; )**_

* * *

**CHAPTER 19**

_Mind Games_

Sam sat up where he had landed, he fumbled with his jacket until he found the pocket containing his Zippo. Flipping the lid up, he flicked the lighter into life and took stock of his immediate surroundings.

...

Realising the futility, Dean had given up trying to overcome the force which held him in the armchair, and was now occupied in doing the only thing he could to make it clear to the witch how he felt about her. Hecate may have eyes that could flare into a brilliant scarlet, but Dean had his own pretty impressive death ray glare and, right now, it was fully fixed on the creature who currently sat, curled comfortably with her feet up, in one corner of a long white leather sofa slowly sipping her whisky and gazing back at Dean, her expression one of contemplation. The body of Sandra still lay on the floor between them where it had fallen. Dean refused to allow himself to look down at the sad little corpse.

...

Finally, Hecate's expression changed and she looked like she had come to some sort of decision. Draining the last of her drink. She uncurled her legs and stood, giving Dean a brief smile as she stepped casually over Sandra's body and sauntered across to where the open bottle of whisky still stood on the side table next to Dean. She turned her watchful look away from Dean as she poured herself another tumbler full of the golden liquid and raised the glass level with her face. Swirling the alcohol round and around inside the glass, she watched the tiny whirlpool the movement created. When she spoke, she remained stood with her back to Dean.

"You know...You truly _do_ have beautiful eyes child, even though they look at me with sssuch hatred...I wonder, have you ever had the opportunity to watch a perssson burn alive? Witnessssed as their eyes begin to melt down their cheekss, or sssshrivel up to nothing in their ssocketsss with the ssssearing heat?"

Even if Dean _were_ able to answer the creature, at that moment he wouldn't have.

"No. I don't sssuppose you have had that pleasure. Although?...Maybe in Hell? No matter. Tonight you ssshall experiencsse for yourssself how it feels."

Dean's fingers dug into the leather of the chair as he fought to contain the lurch of fear caused by Hecate's words. _God no. No, not like that...I'm so fucking screwed...Chrissake Sam, where are you? Has she hurt you? I need you Sammy, I __**really**__ freakin' need you brother...You hear me?_

Dean's blood ran cold when, with a knowing smile, Hecate slowly turned to face him and spoke again.

"No child... he doesn't. But rest assured, he has come for you."

...

Sam quickly moved his own leg off and away from the lower leg of the, clearly human, remains. He guessed the sound of breaking bone had come from the corpse's tibia or fibular, when both the weight the and sudden impact of his thigh landing across them had neatly snapped through one or the other, or possibly even both. The body was almost completely decomposed already, revealing it's skeletal framework poking out from the clothes that Sam assumed whoever it was had been wearing when _He?_ died and was left to rot. The clothes themselves suggested to Sam that these were the remains of a male. Odd clumps of black hair stuck out from small pieces of fleshy scalp which stubbornly still clung to the skull. There was no way for Sam to know whether the male was already dead before being thrown into the cellar to quietly rot; or whether he had been shut into the cellar alive, before simply being left to die down here. Sam sincerely hoped it was the former, especially considering that he himself was hoping to gain access into the main house using this route. He _really_ didn't need to find the exit from cellar to house blocked off! Carefully getting to his feet, Sam began to anxiously search for the way out.

...

_Sonovabitch! Fuck off outta my head, freak! This' a private area, trespassers will find themselves subject to what I think about them, an' I promise, you won't like it old woman. Stay, an' I swear I'll start picturing all my favourite Asian Busty Beauties centrefolds, in technocolour! Trust me, I can go real hardcore on you, bitch. Consider yourself warned..._

Hecate smiled at the concentration which had appeared on Dean's face.

"You think I'm inssside your head, boy? Possssibly a vaguely interessting journey...but not one which would ssserve any purpose. Whatever you thoughtsss, they really don't matter to me. But your cry for your brother? Sssuch a powerful need, I could not help but hear it."

_Yeah? Well, just in case, this one's for you, bitch. As a Goddess? You suck. You're fucking crap, a complete loser. You're nothin' special. Nobody needs you, you're just some festering boil from the arse end of Hell. You're as welcome here as a dose of clap, you snivelling, shit-for-brains, egocentric, douche bag. Chrissake! You're how old? An' you can't even talk properly! __**And, **__I know you can be hurt. Someone burned you, didn't they, you ugly assed steaming pile of rat puke? Charred that nice dress you were wearing. And when I shot you? You went down, like the stinking sack full o' horse shit that you are, no problem. __**Sssssssso,**__ now I know there's a way grandma. Make the most of it you moronic, useless, bag o' bones,'cos you __**are**__ gonna go down, an' if you've done something to Sam you shit eating freakoid bitch, you're goin' down slow, and I swear, you're going down __**hard!**_

...

As he searched for a way out of the cellar, finding his way via the intermittent use of his Zippo, Sam came across two further sets of remains. Not yet nearly as decomposed as the first, they had obviously died more recently. The freshest, and so therefore the most fetid of the remains, he found curled up at the bottom of a set of stone steps. The same steps which would take him up and into the living areas of the house. Internally cursing the ever fun loving Winchester luck, Sam held his hand over his nose and mouth as he considered the bloated, naked corpse. It's skin looked to be at bursting point, especially around it's abdomen, where it had become distended and was stretched taut by the gases which had built up inside the body. It was currently very effectively blocking Sam's access onto the steps. Chunks of skin and most of the underlying muscle on one side of the corpse's face had almost completely been torn away, probably snatched by feeding rats. It was difficult for Sam to be certain, due to the distortion to the body and the disfigurement of the face, but he thought the remains were likely to be those of a female. Sam and Dean had handled innumerable corpses over the years, so Sam was fully aware that, in it's current over ripened state, there was the chance that the drum tight flesh would tear and burst as soon as he tried to move it. Sam's stomach churned at the thought alone, but he had no alternative, he _needed_ to get up those steps. Sam began to search for anything he could use to try to move the rotting corpse without having to physically touch it. _Please, anything, anything at all!_

_..._

Dean renewed his struggle against the force which bound him, unable to give voice to his rage and his fears for the safety of his brother, it was the only thing he could do. He was desperate to know what had happened to Sam, and the creature's calm exterior only served to convince Dean that she already had his brother somewhere. Seemingly oblivious to Dean's thoughts and frustrations, Hecate turned away from him and, with a small frown, looked down in contemplation, at the body of Sandra.

"_This_ will have to be dealt with...I must confess, she really was quite wearisome as a familiar."

Dean watched as Hecate moved to the middle of the room. Raising her arms she began to chant, ending her spell casting with one clap of her hands. As she remained stood, it looked to Dean as if she were waiting for something. After a few seconds, Dean _thought_ he saw something glimmer faintly in the air in front of Hecate. Blinking, he strained to focus. Again there was something like a shiver, a not quite there distortion bending the air. And then he saw it, a blue haze gradually beginning to materialise, and his heart sank.

...

"_Yes_! Thank you!"

Back at the spot where Sam had made his initial grand entrance into the cellar, he found what he was looking for. He recalled hitting his shoulder and knee on something when he landed. Moving quickly he picked up the old long handled coal shovel and headed back to the body. Wedging the flat side of the shovel head against the corpse, and with an internal mantra of _Please don't burst, please don't burst _he, carefully, began to lever the remains to one side. Despite how large the corpse appeared to be, Sam was surprised at how relatively light it felt as he began to gently manoeuvre it, he guessed that the female in life was of a fairly slim build, before her body was so grossly distended by the process of decomposition. He froze, holding his breath, when a long drawn out wheezing groan came from the fleshy, half chewed hole, that had been the female's mouth.

...

As soon as Sam relaxed and breathed again, he could actually taste the noxious fumes that had emanated from the corpse. Swallowing bile, he continued with the distressing task, at last creating enough of a gap to allow him access onto the stairs. Removing his over shirt, Sam used it to cover the woman's body as best he could. Donning his jacket, he grabbed the shovel and headed up the steps toward the wooden door at the top, desperate to leave the cellar behind. The door wouldn't budge. _Sonovabitch...no, no, no. You have to open, you __**have**__ to! _Sam would not accept the possibility that he could be trapped, he wasn't about to let it happen, _couldn't _let it happen. Forcing himself to remain as calm as he could, Sam squatted down to inspect the lock.

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_A.N. You know, much as I enjoy writing fiction, and was overjoyed to accidentally discover the world of Fanfic, which gave me a brilliant excuse to write again, I do have one growing ambition in relation to these stories. I would __**dearly**__ love to hit one hundred reviews for a story. I assume your first 100 is a big marker for anyone writing on these sites. __**So, is anyone reading who's willing to help an ambition be**__**achieved?**__ I've already decided that the celebration, (if it ever happens), will involve a cake with a candle on top as well as some impromptu dancing and generalised jigging! :D_

_Chick xxx_


	20. Chapter 20

_A.N. Erm, sorry about the ick factor last chapter. You'll be glad to know I re-wrote this one twice in order to tone down it's original ickyness which, honestly? Hit Def Con 3 ick level at first._

* * *

**CHAPTER 20**

_In the dark_

The instant Sam inserted the first of his lock picking tools, he was thrown violently backwards by the strength of the electric jolt that coursed up his arm, across his shoulders and on, down the other arm. His muscles went into spasm, contracted, and both arms of their own accord curled into his chest at the elbow. Unable to grab onto anything, Sam was helpless to stop himself from plummeting chaotically back down the steps, crashing into the roughly hewn walls on route. Despite his desperate attempts to keep his head from contacting with the solid stone steps, he couldn't avoid his forehead smacking into the side wall at least twice, immediately feeling the warmth of blood pouring from the injury and the onset of the promise of a nerve jangling headache. Nausea flared in his gut from his crazy head over heels, bone jarring, acrobatic display. His fall ended softly, when a final roll deposited him directly on top of the bloated corpse, the impact promptly causing the bloated flesh to rupture. Sam was assailed by the sudden appalling stench of toxic stinking gases which blasted out of the body, along with no small amount of rotting intestinal gloop. Sam's nausea levels shot off the scale, and Sam couldn't stop himself from adding his own vomit in to the mix. Panting and heaving, Sam madly scrambled away from the mess.

...

Uncaring any more about the dirt and coal dust on the cellar floor, Sam sat down, his back against a wall, waiting as the muscles in his arms slowly began to relax from the paralysing spasm generated by the force that held the cellar door firmly closed. Battered, bloody and bruised, particles of human ichor clinging to his clothing, and feeling half dazed from the solid blows to his head, Sam closed his eyes. For a while, he allowed himself to drift. Despite everything, one side of his mouth curled up into a small half smile at the thought which crossed is mind_, And I quit Stanford... for this!_

...

Little by little the blue haze hovering in the air in front of Hecate became more visible, until the familiar swirling blue cloud of Becky's shade hung there. Hecate gave the shifting form a friendly smile.

"Rebecca dear, I have a propositsssion for you if..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,Sssandra? Isn't that obvioussse, my dear? Sssandra is dead. Which means there is a role I would like you to take on. I assume you would be interessted in having your human body back? The terms are ssssimple. You agree to be my new familiar, and in return I transport your ssspirit back into your body.,.,.,.,.,..If you refuse? You would sssimply sstay as you are, for a _little_ longer at leassst, then...Well...You've ssseen what has become of the othersss? I'm afraid the sssame will happen to you. Sssso, do we have a deal? The choicssse mussst be yours.,.,,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,You would ssseek the advicssse of a ssstranger?.,.,.,Very well, as you wisssh."

Hecate turned to Dean.

"You may ssspeak, boy, sshe asssks your opinion. "

A torrent of words, sentences, demands, threats and curses filled Dean's head, but for once Dean refused to give in and verbalise any of them. Instead he focused on the shade, and on the limited choice available to Becky. Clearing his throat, Dean first spoke to the witch, failing dismally to keep the contemptuous tone out of his voice.

"So, have I've got this right? Her choices are vengeful spirit,_ always_ fun, or your...What was it? Your _familiar_? Really?"

Hecate looked at Dean in amusement.

"What? Do you think I ssshould have a black cat? Ssadly, I find the tassskss a cat is able to complete tend to be quite limited. Now, do what you have been assked, advise the girl!"

Knowing neither option was likely to end well, Dean could only choose the one which gave Becky the greater odds of survival.

"Accept the deal."

...

Having garnered Becky's acceptance, Hecate turned to Dean, speaking to him curtly.

"You will accompany us and witnessss the breadth of my powers. However, allow me to demonssstrate for you the conssequencess of any and all attemptsss by you to either attack _or_ to leave."

Using the index finger of one hand, Hecate began to trace sigils in the air before holding the palm of her hand flat towards Dean, and seeming to give the air a push.

...

The shock of the pain which flared throughout Dean's body took his breath away, and caused his eyes to fill with unshed tears. A yellowy distortion appeared at the edge of his vision and he seemed to lose all muscle tone. His head lolled forward, even the strength in his neck feeling as though it had been completely drained. His breathing was rapid, leaving him panting, and Dean was glad to be seated as he realised that his legs, at that moment, would not have supported him. He could almost hear the sound of his increased blood pressure as his heart beat speeded up, forcing the blood to race through his system at a speed which would medically be considered highly dangerous. He attempted to raise a hand, to signal Hecate to stop, discovering that even this small movement was impossible to achieve right at that moment. Hecate placed her hand under his chin and raised his head until she was in Dean's line of sight.

"A sssmall tasste of what you will experiencsse if you do anything other than comply. Do we have an underssstanding, boy?"

Still effected by pain and weakness, Dean could only grunt his confirmation. Hecate patted the hunter on his shoulder, and at last he could feel the spell begin to dissipate, taking the hurt with it. Dean closed his eyes and groaned, wanting somebody _Anybody_ to jump start his body again. Gradually he began to slowly regain the strength which had so easily been taken from him.

"You will assssisst whilsst I carry out this working."

Reluctantly Dean nodded, prepared to bide his time until an opportunity for retaliation presented itself.

...

Sam hurt, he was sore, his head throbbed with a irritating dull ache, the lump on his forehead felt tender and warm, he was coated in filth, and he still had a job to do. With a deep sigh, he slowly raised himself back onto his feet. His aches and pains would have to wait. Getting to his brother was the priority. There were only the two ways out of his current situation. One being to return back to his entry point, see if it was possible for him to somehow manage to get back up and out through the coal hole. The other way was to try that damn door again, which meant testing out whether or not he had activated a one shot only spell. Sam realised how unlikely that was. Anyone using magic to secure a door would want the spell to last, not to simply be a one off. Sam really didn't feel ready right then to risk the supernatural electric shock again. He headed to the coal chute.

...

Looking up, Sam could clearly make out the edges of the actual hole against the moonlit sky. Tantalisingly close, it was too far beyond his reach, even when he tried jumping, hoping to grab an edge and from there, haul himself up and out. He switched his attention on to the sloping length of metal which formed the actual chute. Stretching up onto his toes, he was able to curl the fingers of one hand onto the bottom edge. Sam immediately felt more hopeful. He realised he wasn't going to be able to pull himself up onto the chute at it's current angle. But, he figured that if he could bend the thing so it angled more steeply down in his direction, maybe then he'd be able to use the chute to pull himself up until he was high enough to reach and get a good grip on the edges of the hole? Whilst thinking through the possibilities, Sam noticed himself shivering slightly, it felt as though it was getting colder in the cellar. Time to put his theory to the test...Except, he didn't get the chance. He was suddenly, and acutely, aware that it was very rapidly becoming _extremely_ cold in the cellar. Unnaturally so. _Crap! The bodies! Their spirits! _Sam spun around, just in time to catch a glimpse of the coal shovel swinging at his head. There was an explosion of brilliant white pain and Sam went down, out cold before he hit the floor.

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_A.N. Till next time._

_Chick xxx_


	21. Chapter 21

_A.N. Welcome back. Here we go again..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

_The lion, the witch and the wardrobe._

_Jeeze...I feel like freakin' Bambi on freakin' ice. What the Hell kinda spell __**was**__ that? Come on legs, do your thing, dammit! _Holding onto the stair rail to steady himself until the strength fully returned to his legs, Dean dutifully followed Hecate upward as she led him right back to the attic level. On this occasion, however, she headed for the opposite door to that leading into the room which Dean had been in. Having blinked out of existence on the ground floor, Becky's shade now reappeared in the corridor. Hecate snapped her fingers, producing a large, old fashioned, ornate looking key from out of mid-air. Stooping, she unlocked the door. Keeping her hand on the handle and the door closed still, she turned to Dean.

"Insside thisss placsse is sssacred to me. You will resspect thiss boy child, if you wisssh to ssee Rebecca take on her living form oncsse again. Do I make mysssself clear?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Got it...Respect the room."

Hecate's eyes narrowed.

"_What_? I hope you're not waitin' for _me_ to call you friggin' mistress? 'Cos if you _are_, then we'll both be standing in this hallway till the day Hell freezes over!"

Hecate's glare intensified, but she said nothing. Pushing open the door, she indicated that Dean should enter first. Dean hesitated, not trusting that the witch wouldn't simply close the door after him and lock him inside. One over-riding thought finally encouraged him to walk past Hecate and step in to the dark of the room, _Sammy might be in here._

Dean crossed the threshold into the room, and froze, stupefied, too many thoughts to make sense, too rapid to be caught and kept hold of, began tumbling through his mind, including one stream of thought which he could swear just kept repeating _bunnies, bunnies, bunnies _nonsensically. He was still gawping around, his mouth ajar, when Hecate and the shade appeared at either side of him. A part of him was vaguely aware of the sound of a door closing, seemingly somewhere off in the distance. Dean remained motionless, no spell needed now to render him speechless, he was completely dumbfounded. Internally, he was a tornado of emotions, and amongst the chaos in his mind, one small thought kept persistently bouncing up and down inside his head, waving, attempting to attract his attention, trying to be heard above the clammer. Dean latched onto it. _Sweet Black Sabbath. How do you fight a_ _witch with powers on this scale? Sonovabitch Sammy...This' witchcraft like we've __**never**__ seen. We could be screwed baby brother, wherever you are. _

The threesome were standing at the edge of a vast, cathedral like, cavern. Fine silver sand covered the floor, pristine and undisturbed by any footprints. The cavern walls stretched upward, so high that they eventually simply disappeared into dark shadow. The area was bathed in a soft, moon glow light which, Dean noted, appeared to radiate from some kind of phosphorescent coating which clung on to the walls. Rising up from the floor, central to the cavern, was a flat topped boulder, a monolith. Dean saw that there appeared to be carved decoration around the rock. Around the walls at various points, Dean could see the black entrances to half a dozen different tunnels, leading to who knew where. Suddenly, Dean jumped, startled by an unexpected whisper breathed softly into his ear. Just one word...and yet the impact was chilling_._

_"Welcome."_

...

Hecate's whisper finally broke Dean's trance like state, and he quickly moved away before turning to face her, hoping his fear didn't show in his eyes.

"What the _fuck_ is this? Where's the freakin' wardrobe? And the lion? Where the Hell _are_ we?"

Hecate gave him a puzzled frown.

"Your words make no sssense to me boy. Why do you assk about lions? Has your mind become addled? I warn you, I have no patiencsse for idiotsss and fools! I have told you that we were entering a place sssacred to me, you need know nothing more, child. Now, go. Ssstand yourself by my altar. Rebecca...you too."

Whilst Dean made his way across the soft floor toward the altar, he idly glanced in the direction of one of the tunnels. _Wonder where I'd end up if I made a run for it down there? Huh...probably falling head first down some stray rabbit hole, then having to get friendly with a giant caterpillar ... Ugh! Sooo not what I meant! Ok, not the tunnels then. _Arriving at the altar, he was surprised to see that it was three sided, the monolith having been shaped so that, if looking down onto it from above, the flat surface formed an equilateral triangle. Dean's attention moved on to the pictorial carvings. All three sides of the altar depicted the same wild haired woman, In one of the panels she was shown as a young woman dressed in the fashion of ancient Greece. The carver had managed to create the illusion that the full length dress the woman wore was virtually see through, and Dean could clearly make out the toned, muscular body of the figure. As in the other two carvings, stood at the side of the woman was a tall, slim hound, clearly designed for hunting. Coiled at her feet, it's long body partially draped over the female's sandaled feet, was a snake. On one shoulder sat a toad. In the first panel, the woman appeared to be holding the branch of a tree. Whilst clearly the same female, on the second panel Dean looked at, she seemed to be more mature. She was wearing a skirt which ended just above her knees, she also appeared to have on a breast plate and vanbraces on both her forearms. In her hand she was holding a curved short bow, an arrow knocked and ready. The snake was again at her feet, but this time looking poised to strike at something. The hunting dog was in front of the woman, head up, ears pricked, alert and ready to run when commanded. In this picture, the toad was sitting on the hound's back, as though riding a horse. On the third side of the altar, the carver had illustrated the woman as much older, though it was still obviously the same woman as on the other sides. Here she had a whip in hand, and was driving a chariot across the sky, a crescent moon behind her. Pulling the chariot were five dragons, each of them breathing fire. The snake was ever present, draped across her neck and shoulders, The hound was running through the air, at the side of the chariot, and the toad was once again sat on the woman' shoulder. The quality of the carving was beautiful, clearly the artist had been a master. Dean didn't need Hecate to tell him that the woman in the carvings was herself and he found himself wondering which one represented her most closely? A cloud of dust bloomed off the altar, as Hecate dropped a small, black leather backed book on to the smooth top surface. Dean's eyes were immediately drawn to the book, instinctively knowing that, here, lying on front of him, was the book that Bobby wanted. Hecate's own spell book, value...priceless.

...

Hecate passed a hand over the top of the altar, and a high gloss, true black, circular bowl shimmered into being. It was impossible to tell by just looking whether the thing was made of glass, metal or something else entirely. Unlike the ornate silver coloured bowls commonly used by Demons, this bowl had no decoration what-so-ever on it's perfectly smooth exterior. In the bottom of the bowl, Dean caught sight of an inlaid triangle, a crescent moon in it's centre. The design appeared to have been made from mother of pearl. Her hand hovering over the bowl, Hecate made a fist. When she spread her hand wide again, a sprinkling of grey coloured powder fell from it into the bowl. Next, Hecate took a long, deep breath. She held it for a few seconds before, head held back, she gently blew the air out again. As she did, Dean became aware of a heady, warm scent which grew stronger, and began to fill the air immediately around the altar. It was a scent Dean recognised but, frustratingly, couldn't name. However, as the delightful aroma continued to waft around the area in which he stood, he found himself beginning to feel drowsy.

...

Dean panicked as tiredness descended on him and he roughly shook his head, trying to clear the grogginess away.

"What's happenin'? What're you doin'?"

Hecate's sharp eyes searched his.

"Don't worry, boy. It is only the ssscent of the Evening Primrose. It will do you no harm. Rebecca...I require you to ressst your current form within the bowl, and to sstay as ssstill as you are able. Come."

Through eyes heavy with sleep, Dean saw the shade hesitate, then slowly drift toward the bowl and, after drawing itself into a cloudy sphere, begin to curl it's smoke like form down into the bowl as requested. As the shade filled the bowl, Dean couldn't help but think of a bowl of hot, steaming soup and his stomach growled, earning him a heated glare from Hecate. Dean glared back defiantly, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say _I can't help it! _Hecate reached forward and picked up the small, black handled dagger which lay on the altar, and which Dean _absolutely_ knew hadn't been there a few seconds before.

_"Boy..._Pick up the bowl, classsp it with your palms around it, give it the warmth of your body."

Dean moved to do as he was asked, trying to push aside the image in his head of dropping the bowl, complete with Becky inside it. He glanced at the witch.

"What now?"

"Patiencsse child."

The witch and the hunter stood opposite one another in silence. It wasn't long before Dean felt himself shiver. He looked around, wondering whether the cavern was turning cooler, or had The Others come to gatecrash the party? He continued to feel colder but, bizarrely, he felt his hands around the bowl becoming warmer. He realised that nothing external to him had, in fact, changed. His increasing chill was the result of the warmth somehow being drawn out of him, and flowing into the bowl. His teeth began to chatter, he started to shiver uncontrollably. Suddenly, his mental image of himself dropping the bowl didn't seem so unlikely. He tried to speak.

"H..h..how m..m..m..much l.l..longer?"

In answer, Hecate reached out and briefly held the back of her hand against his cheek.

"Not yet."

Very quickly Dean lost the feeling in his toes and his lips became numb. He was sure that his nose had begun to drip, but could do nothing about it, his teeth could clearly be heard clacking together. He tried to concentrate on his hands, the only part of him remaining warm, _Argh, no, they're startin' to get' kinda hot now, or the damn bowl_ _is. Can't tell which. Freakin' lips too numb to blow on 'em. Hurts! _ Dean's hands began to tremble as he maintained a desperate grip on the bowl, whilst the heat of it climbed to decidedly beyond comfortable. Finally, as Dean was seriously having to consider letting the bowl go, Hecate pointed to the altar.

"Enough. Put it down."

Dean didn't wait to be told again. However, as soon as he no longer had the heat of the bowl to think about, he once more became aware of just how cold the rest of him had become. He wrapped both arms around himself and stamped his feet into the soft sand in an attempt to get some feeling back into his toes, as he watched Hecate slice into the palm of her own hand with the dagger. Holding her open palm over the bowl, she began a whispered chant as her blood dripped from the wound and into the bowl.

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_A.N. Hope that was ok for y'all :D_

_Chick xxx_


	22. Chapter 22

_A.N. __**Sam fans**__ - I'm sorry the focus is on Dean at the mo, but your boy is still flat out in the basement and the timelines are concurrent. Don't worry, he's not forgotten, (how could he be? With a body like_ that_!)._

_Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 22**

_Good to meet you..._

Amazed, Dean watched as green and black flames erupted in the bowl in response to the addition of Hecate's blood. Each single droplet sending the silent flames higher. Withdrawing her hand, Hecate smiled.

"It issss done."

Gradually, the flames began to grow smaller, until they finally flickered and died out. Dean stared at the now empty bowl, then glanced around. He had expected the physical form of Becky to have materialised and now be standing with them. However, there was no sign of another person, there was only himself and the witch. Dean's tone was conversational.

"Looks like you screwed something up scumbag. Mojo starting to wear out, is it? Might need some new batteries inserting...er...somewhere."

Hecate looked at him in silence, her expression impassive, as she raised a hand and pointed, directing Dean's attention toward one of the tunnel entrances.

...

Initially, Dean could see nothing, then he spotted something move. There was a paleness within the dark, he squinted at it, as it gradually made it's way further towards the light. Finally, from out of the tunnel, emerged the naked figure of a woman, hesitantly crawling on all fours.

"Oh my God. _Becky_? Is it her? Is it?"

Hecate simply nodded once, as she watched the figure lift it's head, only to immediately cover it's eyes against the light of the cavern with one trembling hand. Completely uncaring of how the witch might react, Dean raced over to the woman, shrugging off his over shirt as he ran. As he drew closer, he saw the woman flinch when she became aware of his presence. Dean instantly dropped his pace down to a slow walk, holding his arms out from his sides to indicate that he meant her no harm.

"S'ok Becky...it's just me, Dean.. You remember me, don't you?..._Dean_. I'm not gonna hurt you Becky, ok? I promise you, I'm not gonna hurt you."

He moved to kneel down next to the trembling form and held his over shirt out in front of her for her to see. He kept his voice low and soft when he spoke to her.

"I'm just gonna put this over you're shoulders, that ok Becky? Here..._There_ you go... That's better...Right?"

Becky promptly clasped the relatively warm shirt around herself, her eyes gratefully sought Dean's as she studied his face. Dean gave her a gentle smile and nod of encouragement.

"D...D._Dean_?"

Dean's smile broadened.

"Yeah, that's right, it's just me...Good to meet you in person at last, Becky. So, what's a nice lady like you doing in a fugly cave like this? You feelin' ready for some help to stand up yet? Or do you need more time?"

...

With Becky now wearing Dean's shirt, he wrapped his arm around the disoriented woman's waist, supporting her as they steadily made their way back to where Hecate stood waiting, eager to greet and seal the bond with her new familiar.

"Let her ssstand unssupported. Ssshe is not for you, my pretty."

With a heated glare at the witch, Dean turned to speak to the woman who was still leaning up against him.

"You think you can manage to stand on your own yet?"

With her gaze now fixed firmly on the tall and imposing woman before her, Becky gave a small nod. Only then did Dean withdraw his support, but he ensured he remained stood close by her, in case it was needed again.

Hecate moved to stand directly in front of Becky. Placing a hand on each of the woman's shoulders, the witch leaned forward and kissed Becky, once, on each cheek. That done, Hecate let go of Becky and took a step back. At the first kiss, Becky's eyes had widened. At the second, her whole body appeared to relax, and the look in her eyes as she continued to gaze at Hecate subtly changed, turning to a look of adoration. Hecate gave a nod of satisfaction.

"Now you are mine, girl. You are bonded to me until I, _and I alone_, choose to break that bond. You ssshall obey me in all things and hold me above all othersss. Do you underssstand Rebecca?"

"Yes..._Mistress_."

"Very good. We sshall return to the house. I believe your firsst tassk needs to be that of finding more appropriate clothing for yourssself. Both of you, follow me."

Hecate turned to lead Dean and Becky away from the altar. Before obediently following after the witch, Dean hesitated. As soon as Hecate had turned her back, he moved quickly to palm the small dagger from where it lay on the altar top. Turning, he followed on behind, as Hecate led him and Becky across to what seemed to be a very unremarkable looking patch on the cavern's walls.

...

Hecate closed her eyes and held up both hands, palms out towards the solid stone of the cavern wall. Dean didn't catch the words she quietly uttered, but the effect was the appearance of a very normal looking wooden plank door. Walking up to it, Hecate opened the door and held it, ushering Becky and Dean through and back into the attic corridor ahead of herself. Dean saw his opportunity.

...

As Hecate was about to re-enter the corridor after them, Dean spun around and, with almost inhuman speed, thrust the small dagger into the witch's chest, at the same time using his shoulder to heave her back from the threshold and into the cavern. His hand reached for the door handle as Hecate began to screech both in anger and in pain; he intended to slam the door closed, leaving Hecate inside and himself with the chance to make a run for it. What he didn't count on was Becky. At the sound of her mistress's scream, Becky turned and launched herself at Dean's back, clawing his neck with the strength and fury of something crazed. Using her own body weight and Dean's surprise against him, she managed to knock him off balance, just enough to allow Hecate to gain access into the attic hallway. Dean desperately shook Becky off, strong arming the hysterical woman away from him, causing her to stumble and crash straight into Hecate. Amidst the chaos, Dean ran.

...

Fuelled by adrenaline, Dean virtually threw himself down the attic stairs. He hit the second floor hallway without slowing, and began tearing towards the next flight of stairs. He very nearly made it...Until a familiar bolt of pure pain had him crashing to his knees _No...Fuck no...__**Please**__...Shit!_

...

Holding the dagger which she had pulled back out of her own chest, Hecate stormed her way to where the young hunter lay writhing on the floor. Standing over Dean, she spat out her words.

"I _warned_ you boy! I warned you, yet sss_still_ you tesssst me! I am **_Goddesssss_****...**I am **_Queen_**...I am **_Guardian_**_..._I AM HECATE!"

Dean heard, but he didn't care. At that moment his world consisted of little besides the all consuming hurt, filling every part of him, scattering any semblance of coherent thought, taking his breath away, refusing to allow him even the small release of screaming out his agony. Too lost to notice the powerful grip on his hand, or the fact that he was being dragged along the floor, hauled roughly back up the attic stairway and along the corridor. All new pains from his head and shoulders hitting each step simply mingled in with the rest. By the time his journey ended, his body had taken enough and he, at last, became still. Dean never heard the distant sound of a door closing, he remained blissfully aware of nothing at all as he was left, unconscious, laying on a floor that was covered by soft silver sand.

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_A.N. Phew!_

_Chick xxx_


	23. Chapter 23

_A.N. Did I mention my mild dyslexia? If spell check don't pick it up, then sometimes neither do I. So, it's _Altar_, not alter. Oh boy! Better re-edit that then. ;D  
__Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 23**

_A cry in the dark_

Sam began to stir. Turning his head to one side, he moaned in response to the internal pounding of some infernal kettle drum that the small movement instigated in his head. He reached up to lay one hand against his temple, hissing when he touched the tender swelling he found there, his fingers feeling the dried on flakes of blood that surrounded it. _Think I broke my head...Ahhh...Yup, hurts. Sooo not gonna be good when_ _I sit up...Maybe stay here then? Yeah, wait for Dean...or...no. M'lookin' for Dean? Oh, yeah, that's right. I remember now...Cellar...Gloop...Shovel, got it. Better try to for up then. Really, really not gonna be good when I sit up though._

_..._

Carefully cracking open his eyes, Sam lay still, listening. Hearing nothing, he then focused on the temperature. There was a chill in the air, but it felt like a cellar at night kind of cool, rather than a supernatural cold. Next came the sitting up part. Sam took a couple of deep breaths, then slowly raised the top half of his body upright. Having got that far, he paused, waiting for the instant dose of vertigo to settle itself down again. He rolled onto his hands and knees, one hand landed on the handle of the coal shovel. Grabbing it, he turned it so that the end of the wooden shaft was against the floor, and used the tool as a support to help himself clamber upright. For a moment, Sam simply stood, swaying a little whilst he waited for the floor to stop feeling as if it was gently rocking beneath his feet. As his thoughts and recollections began to gain focus, he also became more in tune with every ache, sore spot and stiffening joint on his body. _Crap...hurts everywhere. Gotta work through it, for Dean. __**Gotta**__ get out of this shitty cellar somehow!"_

_..._

Dean groaned and rolled onto his side, curling up into a foetal position, grateful that the pain had retreated, leaving him with a familiar weakness throughout. Eyes still closed, he wondered whether he was actually still alive? Or was he just a puff of smoke now, like Becky had been? He figured maybe he ought to risk having a look. With even his eyelids feeling weak and heavy, it was a struggle. But finally he slitted his eyes open, and gazed around from his position on the floor. _Shit...M'in the freakin' cave! That's just great...Way to go Deano...Brilliant attempt at escape! _ Moving one arm, he brought a hand up until it was in his line of sight and proceeded to wiggle his fingers at himself. _Well, bonus, m'not a_ _puff of smoke at least. _Twisting his head slightly, he looked at those parts of the rest of himself that he could see. _'K...every thin' lookin' solid, can't see no swirly bits...Huh? Wassat? Don't remember __**that**__ bein' in here...What the...? Oh...__**Fuck**__! That's sooo not good. Not good at **all**. Gotta get out. Gotta get up. Gotta do __**somethin'**__!_

_..._

Senses on high alert for any sign that the spirits had returned for a second go at him, Sam reviewed his options. He quickly concluded that he needed to try the chute as he had planned before being forced to take a nap. Wondering how long exactly he'd been out of the game, Sam flicked his Zippo and checked the time.

"_Shit_...so, how long? _Oh Christ, Dean_...I'm so sorry! You'd better still be ok. I'm on my way, just...hang on for me."

According to Sam's watch, the time had crept to 11.15 pm, meaning that once he'd been knocked out, he'd then slept for a good couple of hours at least. Panic flared, as did his desperation to escape the confines of the cellar. He strode quickly across to his proposed exit route and, stretching up, took a firm grip either side of the metal chute. Putting all his strength into it, he pulled the chute in a downward direction, attempting to force the metal to bend. He felt a slight give as something grated and moved. Sam stopped tugging and frowned. The shift had felt like it came from the top end of the chute, where it was fixed to the cellar wall. Putting less strength into the task, Sam held his breath as he pulled testingly at the end of the chute again. An unexpected loosening sensation, the sound of metal scraping against brick, of numerous small fragments of rubble hitting the floor, the loss of grip at a sudden increase in the weight he was holding, the chute suddenly tilting, falling, twisting to hang edge on, swinging. Sam let go of the thing completely and stepped back, both hands on his head as he stared in despair at the dangerously out of kilter metal slide, which now hung tenuously off the one remaining bracket still attached to the wall. Tears of sheer frustration formed in his eyes. There was no way the chute was going to take his weight. If he tried to pull on it, Sam _knew_ he would simply pull the whole thing down off the wall, as unstable as the contraption now was. His mind already reeling, when Sam then began to feel the dropping temperature, he gave in. Throwing his head back, he yelled out loud.

**_"Crowley!"_**

...

Dean finally managed to get to his feet. He stood for a while, wobbling and weaving like a baby about to take it's first steps, unable to tear his gaze from the structure which had replaced the altar in the centre of the cavern floor. Hecate's earlier words echoed in his mind, mocking him..._Have you ever had the opportunity to watch a person burn alive? Tonight you shall find out for yourself how it feels..._Dean couldn't quell the primal fear that rose up inside him as he stared at the thick, upright wooden pole, wrist manacles already attached, and the deep pile of dry wood and straw that had been built up around it. He shuddered. He couldn't, _wouldn't _stick around and simply wait to become someone's bar-b-que'd wiener. He'd rather take his chances in one of the tunnels. He'd been born a Hunter out of fire, he had no intention of ending the Hunt _in_ a fire. He thought about Sam. _No...If Sammy's still alive, if he somehow gets away, he'd understand. Sam would know, he'd get why I can't do this...can't face it. He'd know. Chirissake Sammy, where are you? I can't wait any more...I just can't...I'm sorry._ Looking around, Dean chose a tunnel at random, and headed towards it.

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. When I read what I had typed as the last paragraph for this chapter, I found myself feeling really sad for Dean. Dumb, eh?_

_Chick xxx_


	24. Chapter 24

_A.N. For anyone who may be wondering, my best __**guess**__ is that we are around 3/4 of the way through the fic. Just so you know :D Chick xxx_

**Spoiler alert S8 Ep 19**

_Also, just to say how **great** it was to see Bobby again! I know not everyone liked the character, but I think he's excellent, so there! :D_

* * *

**CHAPTER 24**

_Sam agrees to a deal_

There was the sound of someone clicking two fingers together in the darkness, and light filled the cellar. Crowley stood, hands in pockets, his head bent as he looked down at the floor immediately around his feet. Lifting one foot up, he rubbed the top of his shoe against the calf of his other leg, polishing off a spot of coal dust. Satisfied the dirt had come away, Crowley raised his head and, with an expression of mild curiosity, looked up at Sam.

"Why do you pair insist on hanging around in these kinds of places? Couple of young, strapping boys like you two? Shouldn't you both be out in the fresh air, doing whatever it is humans do when they're out...Oh, I don't know..._hiking,_ and what not?"

...

Sam lowered his eyes to glare down at the English man, grimacing as he strained with the effort of trying to move his head.

"Shut up and just..._get me down_ from here Crowley!"

An irritating smile of amusement appeared on Crowley's benign features. He'd always appreciated those days when either of the Winchester boys needed his help. With a shrug of his shoulders for Sam's benefit, Crowley turned to his left.

"Ok you two. Yes, I know he's fun to play with but, don't you have somewhere you ought to be right now?.,.,.,.,._Sorry_...Wrong answer, guess again my friends..,.,.Yes, I'm afraid so but, look on the bright side...You've not even got there yet and you've already met the boss!.,.,.,._No_! There are no horns, I find them a little passé. Now, off you go. One of my minions will be there to meet you."

By the way that he suddenly, and ungracefully, slid down and away from the wall which the spirits had previously pinned him up against, Sam assumed that Hell's newest souls had left the building. Managing to keep his feet when he landed, Sam stretched his back and shoulders, trying to release the tension caused by being held halfway up the rough surface of the wall. Crowley's gaze shifted to a spot by Sam's right side.

"Now _you_, fellah...Ok, Let's see...Have you by any chance noticed the shiny bright light?...Excellent. Right, I want you to start walking towards the white light, blah, blah, blah and so on...Off you go, there's a good boy...No pun intended."

Sam pointlessly glanced at the empty patch of air at his side before turning to Crowley.

"I take it one of them got away from you then?"

"Yes. But, as the song goes...Two out of three ain't bad. So...Can I assume you're ready to make a deal? My help in return for Hades?"

Sam gave a reluctant sigh.

"Yes."

...

Dean paused at the tunnel entrance and peered into the darkness. It looked pitch black as far as he could see. Taking a step inside, he stopped again and sniffed the air, relieved that at least there was no whiff of sulphur. Hesitant, he glanced back over his shoulder at the firewood and the tall wooden stake. Turning away, he began to slowly walk into the dark, one hand brushing against the tunnel wall, the other held out in front, feeling for any obstacles.

...

One arm across her chest, the other bent up at the elbow, hand casually wrapped around a half full whisky tumbler, Hecate paced the length of the lounge back and forth. She glanced over when Becky appeared at the door way. With a small frown on her face, Becky held her hands out from her sides for Hecate's inspection.

"Is this alright Mistress?"

Hecate gave the jeans and tee that the woman was wearing a cursory look.

"It will sssufficsse. Come to me child."

Pleased she had made the right choice of clothing, Becky smiled as she went to stand by the witch. Hecate gazed at the woman in front of her. Becky's shoulder length red bob had occasional strands of grey running through it. Her brown eyes were edged by fine laughter lines. For her age, Hecate thought that the woman was attractive enough, but she was certainly no great beauty. When Becky walked, she showed no innate gracefulness in her movements, instead she moved steadily and with purpose, planting her feet solidly at each step. She was the kind of woman who enjoyed physical activities and didn't shy away from hard work. Hecate bestowed a small smile on her familiar, and Becky beamed in return.

"I musst warn you Rebecca...I can be a very harsssh tassk massster, you will do well to remember that. However...Continue to ssserve me as you did during the hunter's pathetic attempt to cause me harm, then I believe we ssshall get along quite comfortably. Do we have an underssstanding?"

Becky nodded eagerly, proud that her actions had been noticed. She was shocked, then, when Hecate reached out and gave her a hard, stinging, slap across her face.

"The responssse you ssseek is, I believe, _Yesss Missstresss_. And, if I ever have to teach you that particular lesson again, I ssshall not be ssso lenient."

"Y..Yes...**_Mistress_**!"

"_Much_ better child. You may take pleasure in knowing that you have been born into my ssservice on an aucssspcssious night, girl. In a very sshort while, we ssshall have a burning. That pretty Hunter upstairs ssshall be the firssst of two sssuch sssacrificsses. His musst take placssse under the full moon. His brother ssshall be ssacrificced on the night of the dark moon. When all is done, I, Hecate, ssshall have the power to travel between this world and Hades, whenever I ssso choose. Does that not thrill you my child?"

Although in servitude to Hecate, Becky was still no fool. She quickly buried the twinge of unease that fought to be recognised and, once again, smiled into the scarlet depths of Hecate's eyes.

"Yes it does Mistress...Very much."

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Warning - updates may begin to take a little longer - Doc allowing me to get back on the job from tomorrow (Oh...joy)._

_Chick xxx_


	25. Chapter 25

_A.N. Just a quick _"Thank you"_ to _**Guest**_ for taking the time to leave a review. Put the thanks here as "_Guest"_ never has a reply thingy, but still wanted you to know I appreciate your comment; as I do all the regular "crew" comments. I intend to name and shame you all when the final chapter is posted (this rate that'll be 2015 :o)_

_Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 25**

_Seeking Dean_

Sam looked extremely uneasy.

"Erm...I don't...well, _you_ know...Look...I don't have to kiss you..._Right_?"

Crowley smirked up at Sam.

"Ohhh...The delicious temptation...But, no Moose. I wouldn't want to risk catching anything. I think on this occasion it's acceptable for us to seal this with a simple handshake."

With the deal agreed, Crowley gazed around the cellar.

"So. I suppose the first thing is that you want to book out of your current accommodation? Anywhere in particular you would like me to drop you?"

Sam was cautious.

"That depends. I think Dean might still be in the house somewhere, but I'm not certain. I haven't been able to call him."

Crowley nodded.

"Right. Let's find out shall we?"

Bowing his head, Crowley closed his eyes and stood, silent and motionless apart from the constant flickering movement of his eyes beneath his eyelids. Sam watched as a frown formed on the face of the King of Hell. Sam began to chew on his bottom lip, trying to stay patient. At last, Crowley's eyes opened. He appeared bemused, and Sam couldn't wait any longer.

"_What_? What's wrong Crowley? Where's Dean? Did you find him?"

...

"Yes...and no."

"What's that supposed to mean? Is he ok? Is he..._alive_?"

"Well...It's a strange thing really. Dear old Dean is definitely here, except that...He's sort of not."

Sam flexed his hands in frustration, fighting the urge to reach out and grab the smaller man by the throat.

"Talk to me Crowley, stop playing games!"

Crowley pretended to be hurt by Sam's accusation.

"Now, that's a tad unfair! I assure you, Sammy, this is no game...Fine, how do I phrase this for the terminally thick? Try to think of it this way...Dean is in the house, but it's as though he's out of phase. You understand? Like he's stuck on some other plain. Try this one for size. It's like he's entered a different dimension, and the entry point is in the house."

"My_ name's_ Sam. And I get it...You're saying he's gone through some kinda portal?"

"Give the giant a gold star!"

"Thanks...Can you take me to him?"

Crowley looked irritated as he answered, as though the existence of the portal was a personal affront.

"Short version? No. 'Fraid not. See, you'd need the Queen Bitch to let you in there. Here's a plan though! How about you get yourself caught by old frilly knickers, then start begging _Please don't put me in the other dimension...Anything but the other dimension_...It worked for Brier Rabbit."

Sam looked startled, eyes wide he stared at Crowley.

"Hang on...You..._You've_ read Brier Rabbit? Oh, boy!"

Sam couldn't help his grin.

"There are sooo many people I'm gonna tell _that_ one to!"

Crowley grimaced and glared up at the Hunter.

"Plausible denial Moose. Plausible denial...And moving right along. I can get us to the portal entrance. After that, all we have to do is figure out how to actually get in. Shall we?"

...

Once again Hecate, followed obediently by Becky, climbed the stairs up to the attic level. Becky's earlier niggle of unease had, for some reason, returned. Becky was baffled as to why she was experiencing such a sensation. She was fairly certain it wasn't the Mistress that she was feeling this way about. Whenever she was with, or thought about, Hecate, all she felt was total devotion and dedication. She _belonged_ to Hecate and she had no thoughts of wanting it to be any other way. She was proud that the Goddess had chosen _her_ to be her familiar and, she had every intention of being the best she could be. Any punishment she may earn along the way would be no one's fault but her own and, therefore, she would be deserving of her Mistress' wrath. So why _did_ this unease plague her?

"Is sssomething wrong with you girl? Sspeak up."

Hecate's unexpected enquiry made Becky jump, and she stumbled over her reply.

"Sorry?..I mean...No Mistress. I...I'm fine...Really! Thank you...For asking I mean...Mistress."

Coming to a halt outside the door which led to the sacred cavern, Hecate's scrutiny of Becky's face was intense.

"Are you cssertain girl? I ssaw you frowning. I wissh to know why, when you are about to witnesss the glory of human ssssacrifice. _Ansswer_ me!"

Somehow Becky had no doubts that to express her growing unease would not be the answer Hecate wanted to hear.

"If you please Mistress. I was thinking of how best to prove myself worthy of the role you have entrusted me with."

Hecate smiled.

"It is good that you are thinking of ssuch things, child. It ssserves you well."

As she had on the previous occasion, Hecate conjured up the key needed to unlock the way into the cavern.

"Let us ssee if our little man has awoken. I intend to allow _you_ the honour of placssing him at the ssstake."

Hecate crossed into the cavern ahead of Becky. Only two steps behind her mistress, Hecate was already screaming her fury as Becky entered the area.

...

**_"Thissss cannot be! He is gone! Where is he_**? **_Find him!_** _You __**musssst**__ find him,_ **_quickly!_**_ You sssshall return him from the tunnels. You sssshall find him__**...Or you sssshall**__**burn in his placssse!"**_

Becky ran. Coming to a halt by the wood pile, she began to frantically stare around at the tunnel entrances.

_"Which one Mistress? Which one should I take?"_

As Hecate stormed past Becky, she grabbed the woman tightly by the upper arm and dragged Becky, stumbling, after her. Heading for the nearest tunnel entrance, Hecate stretched out her free arm and swiftly traced a complex pattern in the air, directly in front of the entranceway. Dissatisfied, she jerked Becky along with her to the next tunnel, repeating the previous pattern. Again she pulled Becky away and moved on to a third tunnel. At the fifth tunnel that Hecate tried, when she once again drew her pattern in the air, the tunnel instantly developed an acid green glow around it's edges.

"_In there_...You will find him in there. Hold your hand out for me, _now_!"

Confused, Becky did as she was instructed. Hecate bent down and scooped a fist full of sand from the cavern floor. Pouring enough into Becky's hand to cover the woman's palm, she snapped two fingers over it. Becky flinched as a silent, star bright white flame sprang up from the sand to burned steadily on her outstretched palm. Becky stared at the single flame in fascination, realising that it gave off no heat. Hecate gave Becky a forceful shove toward the tunnel entrance.

"Go now..._Quickly_. I _command _you to_ find_ that wretched boy. And girl? Do not **_dare _**to fail me!"

...

Moving carefully but with purpose, Dean continued to feel his way along the tunnel, his guiding hand caressing it's rough, uneven walls. The floor was covered with numerous loose stones scattered singularly or gathered in large patches. Ranging from tiny pebbles up to large cobbles and sizeable boulders, they hindered his progress. He frequently banged his shins and ankles and he'd lost count of the number of times he'd stubbed his toes or had to catch himself as he, yet again, tripped over some obstacle or other. The total dark was disorientating and, in his mind, all manner of monsters and beasts stood watching him as he passed by. He paused, taking a moment to calm both himself and his overwrought imagination. Forcing himself to continue on, Dean had taken three steps when, on the forth, he put his front foot down expecting the floor to continue. Instead his foot carried on down, and his whole body tipped forward as the tunnel floor unexpectedly dropped away, becoming a steep downward slope. Unable to stop his momentum, Dean fell.

...

Tucking his head in, Dean hit the slope with one shoulder, and kept on rolling and bouncing untidily down the slope, finally reaching the bottom and coming to a halt in a dip in the ground. Breathless and dizzy from the somersaulting fall, Dean lay on his back where he had landed, groaning as he tried to orientate himself; a task made all the harder by having no point of reference to focus on in the total blackness surrounding him. The sensation of still spinning caused a surge of nausea, forcing Dean to roll onto his front. As he rolled, he discovered his dislocated shoulder. Gritting his teeth to stop himself crying out, a surge of bile burned it's way up his throat. Dean retched and spat before resting his head on his good arm, waiting for the white hot pain of his shoulder and the dizziness from his fall to pass. Eventually his head accepted the fact that he was no longer tipping head over heels and the pain in the shoulder settled to almost bearable. Dean began to breath normally again.. Wearily hauling himself up onto his hands and knees, Dean used his good hand to feel around his immediate area, trying to get some idea of what was around him and which way the tunnel led from there. At one side, he felt the ground start to head upwards. _Ok...that way's back up the hill, so I guess that_ _means I carry on in the other direction_. He stretched out his hand and, again, began to feel along the ground, trying to gauge which direction the path went from his current position. What he discovered triggered a rush of panic...The ground on his opposite side was also an uphill rise. _Oh...Come __**on**__! You __**gotta**__ be __**shittin'**__ me!_ _Which freaking side did I just come tumble weeding down from?"_

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_A.N. Went back to work Monday, just been ordered off sick again by the Assistant Director. Getting fed up with all this health crap! :(_

_Chick xxx_


	26. Chapter 26

_A.N. Thank you for your good wishes, thank you for your support, thank you for making me laugh when I needed it. Your comments and reviews are so much more than that right now, and I'm so very grateful!_

_Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 26**

_Decisions and issues of trust_

Standing between the two rocky uphill paths, Dean berated himself. _Come on Winchester, figure it_. _Picture the fall...__**Dammit**__! Which fucking way?_ He turned his focus inwards, attempting to connect the dots between his first head over heels roll and his final landing position in the stone valley between the steep slopes. The problem being that he was attempting to floodlight an image that had occurred in terminal darkness. During his chaotic twisting and tumbling, keeping score of his gymnastics really hadn't been a priority. _Sonovabitch...Might just as well flip a coin, if I'd got one...An' if I could frigging see which way up it landed!"_ Making a random choice, Dean began to painfully slither and scramble his way upward the incline, hoping to find level ground.

...

At last he reached the top and dragged himself onto a relatively flat walkway. Easing himself upright, he sought out the tunnel wall. Staying close to it, he continued his journey, this time shuffling and sliding his booted feet slowly along the trail, feeling for any unexpected danger under foot. A small sound in the distance made him pause. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on listening. Tuning into the sound again, he recognised it as a combination of footfalls, and the noise made by scattering pebbles. Someone, or something, was heading rapidly in his direction.

...

Dean crouched down and flattened himself against the tunnel wall, waiting. Opening his eyes he squinted into the pitch black, at first seeing nothing. Then, some way off, he thought he saw a pin prick of light, so tiny that, initially, he didn't trust his own eyes. Gradually, however, the sound of someone moving down the tunnel in his direction became louder, and the tiny spot of light grew, becoming clearer as the distance between Dean and the newcomer shortened. Dean considered his options. Here in the dark and with the sudden downhill section waiting behind him, running became the most fruitless and dangerous choice. Standing himself upright, he leaned against the rocky wall for support, and called out a challenge.

"**Hey!...**_You_, with the light. Who are you? What're you doin' down here? _Answer_ _me_!"

The footfalls stopped, and a nervous voice responded.

"Dean? _Dean_...Is that you?"

"Who wants to know?"

"_Dean_! At last! It's me...Becky. Stay still, I'm coming down to you, wait till I bring the light over."

"Becky? _Shit_! The bitch sent you after me, didn't she?"

Dean could see the light bobbing closer, eventually enabling him to discern that it was being given off by a winter white flame which lit up Becky's worried face and hurt his eyes. He squinted as Becky finally spotted him and scurried across.

"Well? Did the old douche bag tell you to come find me?"

"Yes...But it's ok Dean. She's not here. She's had to go prepare something for when she...For when you...Well, you know...But it means we've got the chance to get away, _both_ of us. Come on, _hurry_."

As Becky's light shone on Dean, he shook his head.

"Sorry lady. No offence, but I've heard _that_ one before."

Becky looked pleadingly at him.

"I'm telling you the truth Dean. If we're quick, we _can_ both escape."

"Why should I trust you? You're her friggin' _familiar_."

Becky flashed Dean a smile.

"Managed to fool you too huh? _Damn_, but I'm good!"

"What? _What do you mean_?"

"She doesn't control me Dean..._Really_. We haven't got all night though. _I'm_ getting out of this place. So, you coming?...Or not?"

Dean turned to look back down into the dark tunnel, then at Becky again, scrutinising her, trying to read her, looking for some sign that marked her as belonging to Hecate.

"Dean...I don't want to rush you, but time's moving on."

Dean bowed his head, uncertainty flowing through him. When he raised his head again, he gave the woman a short nod.

"Guess I've not much option. I'll just have to trust you, won't I?"

...

With the aid of the light, the return journey back to the cavern was made so much quicker and easier. Dean was both surprised and disappointed to realise what little progress he had made in his attempt to get away. As they neared the end of the tunnel, Becky stopped and raised a hand to Dean.

"Wait here. I'll check she's not around."

Stepping into the light of the cavern, Becky glanced around whilst Dean watched, still suspicious of Becky's intent.

"It's ok, it's clear. Come on."

Cautiously, Dean emerged from the tunnel. A chuckle coming from one side sent a chill running through him. Turning, he saw Hecate, casually leaning against the cavern wall where she had been waiting, out of Dean's line of sight.

"Welcome back child. Jussst in time."

...

Dean didn't have a chance, the spell hit fast and hard. He cried out as a familiar pain sent him reeling to the floor, the impact made even worse when he landed on his injured shoulder. Dean's howls turned to hollered curses tumbling out of his mouth between gasps for air and sobs of anguish, whilst Hecate stood over him, her laughter increasingly turning to the sound of cackling. Twisting his head away, Dean's pained eyes caught sight of Becky, watching calmly, a slight smile on her face. Then, as suddenly as the attack began, it ended, and at last Dean's tormented body stopped seizing. He lay still, drawing in ragged breaths, hating the weakness left by the physically draining effect of Hecate's torturous magic.

...

"Get him up girl and fixss him to the ssstake."

"Yes Mistress."

Pushing Dean onto his back, Becky grabbed hold of his hands and tried to heave him up into a sitting position, but merely eliciting further choked off sounds of pain at the impact on the dislocated shoulder. Realising she was getting nowhere alone, Becky gave up tugging at Dean and knelt down by his head, patting at his cheek until the hunter opened his eyes to blink up at her.

"Dean...I need you to stand up, do you understand? I can't move you on my own, I need you to help me...Ok?"

Dean wearily closed his eyes again.

"Screw you."

...

Staring down at the uncooperative man, Becky realised that her earlier unease was once more tingling up her spine, clearly it was something to do with _him_, Dean. Becky glanced across to the waiting stake. _Maybe...Maybe this is all wrong?_

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_A.N. More soon!_

_Chick xxx_


	27. Chapter 27

_A.N. Things just going from bad to worse for the boys! Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 27**

_A brother's plea_

Hecate appeared at Becky's side.

"Watch and learn girl."

A cruel smile twisting her features, the witch delicately placed one foot on Dean's injured shoulder, then shifted her weight onto that same foot. Dean howled and grabbed at her ankle with his other hand, trying to dislodge her foot. Hecate removed some of the pressure.

"Hunter..._I have your brother_...Now. You will do as my familiar asksss...Or sssshould the younger boy be the firsst to feel the fires of ssscarificssse?"

Tear filled green eyes met the red glow of the witch's. Dean's voice was half words, half moan.

"Leave him alone..._Please_, I'm beggin' you. Let my brother go. Let him go...**_Mistress._**"

Hecate laughed in glee.

"_Missstresss_...indeed! Go with the girl, and I ssshall consssider your plea, boy."

Hecate nodded at Becky to continue and Becky slowly helped the beaten hunter to his feet before guiding him to the pyre. She felt Dean's tremor as he saw the short wooden ladder leaning against the wood pile, felt him hesitate, steadied him as he climbed up ahead of her. Whilst she pushed him up to stand against the stake and enclosed his wrists into the manacles above his head, Dean heard her whispering continuously.

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me, I'm sorry, forgive me..."_

Still physically weakened, Dean struggled to keep his feet, finally sagging against the manacles, leaving his body weight hanging from his wrists. He gave Becky one last look, his eyes pleading with her, before dropping his gaze.

_"Make her let my brother go...You do that for me and all this?...It won't matter anymore."_

...

Stood in the attic hallway, to one side of the still open door, Sam was taken aback by Crowley's physical strength as the smaller man held onto him; stopping Sam from racing headlong into the cavern by the expedient method of wrapping one arm around Sam's waist from the back, and clamping his other hand firmly over Sam's mouth. Crowley's voice was a hiss in Sam's ear.

"Easy there my sky scraper friend. Charging in like the proverbial bull in a china shop won't help _anyone_!"

Sam signalled his acceptance of Crowley's words by relaxing his body in Crowley's grip.

"Good. Glad you're able to still see some sense Moose. I'm going to let go, and _you_ aren't going to do anything stupid..._Are_ you?"

Sam shook his head.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Crowley removed his restraining hold. With a tilt of his head he suggested that he and Sam move further away from the door. Sam's return look told Crowley that Sam was only prepared to hold back for a short time. Then he was going in, whatever Crowley thought. As Sam reluctantly moved further down the hallway, Crowley remained near the open door, muttering to himself briefly and then starting to pat at his various pockets.

_"Come on you little bugger, where've you landed?...Ahh...got you."_

From out of his back trouser pocket, Crowley gave a pleased smile as he produced a small, simple, wooden wedge. Bending down, he pushed the entrance door to the cavern until it was almost closed, stopping it from shutting all the way by the use of his little conjured up door wedge, hoping that from the inside, should Hecate look at all, the door would appear fully closed. Satisfied, Crowley walked down to where Sam waited, albeit impatiently and with every nerve in his body screaming at him to simply storm into the vast cavern, if only to show Dean that he was free, and he was there for him.

...

"We haven't got time to fuck around Crowley...She's going to _burn_ my brother!"

"So it would seem, but what exactly do you think she'll do when she sees you? Go all gooey at your sad puppy dog eyes? Stop everything 'cos baby brother here is upset she's about to chargrill big brother?"

Sam's glare would have had anybody else asking for a spade so that they could dig their own grave and jump in it, not Crowley however.

"Oh, _please_, stop...Or I might have to consider quaking in terror! All I'm saying is, we need a distraction. Then _you_ get to scoot in, grab the cute and sooty one, destroy the bitch, and we all get to go home happy. Got it?"

"_Fine_. And you'll be doing _what_ exactly while all this' happening?"

Crowley's smile returned.

"Easy..._I'm_ the distraction, _obviously_! I'll then keep the old girl occupied, while you do_ your_ bit. Anyone noticing yet who's got the dangerous part here?

The sound of Hecate's voice drifting down the hallway, calling out in triumph and excitement, quelled Sam's response to Crowley and set his heart racing.

"_It is time_...**Βυ μυ κομμανδ, φλαμες το ωοδδ, αλιγ-τ ανδ ****_βυρν_****!**"

"_What was that? What did she say_?"

Crowley cleared his throat before he answered.

"Erm...Well...It's all Greek to me of course, but...Oh, and _please_, try not to over react here Moose...She sortofsetthebonfiregoing..."

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_A.N. Sorry it's so short, but c'mon, it kinda _had_ to end on _that_ line, didn't it?_** ;** P  
Chick xxx

_Oh - lack of spacing is on purpose - I figured it's the kind of news Crowley__would spit out quickly!_


	28. Chapter 28

_A.N. So, things are starting to get a little heated now, and some folk are getting a bit hot under the collar ;p  
__Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 28**

_How to kill a witch_

Without a word, his face a study in determination, Sam pushed past Crowley and headed for the doorway.

...

Sam's progress, however, was halted when Crowley blinked into existence between Sam and the door, one hand held up against the furious, and increasingly dangerous, hunter's chest.

"_Get out of my way_."

"I will, I will. Provided you can answer me this...How, exactly, do you intend to get rid of the most powerful witch you've ever come up against?"

Sam glared silently down at Crowley.

"_Thought_ as much."

Sam's tone was an arctic blast.

"Fine...Tell me how."

...

"...**Βυ μυ κομμανδ, φλαμες το ωοδδ, αλιγ-τ ανδ ****_βυρν_****!**"

Dean wondered if maybe he was dreaming? Tried telling himself it was only a nightmare, he was probably really laying unconscious in the tunnel right now. Except, at Hecate's words, flames sprang to life amongst the mound of wood and straw beneath his feet, quickly taking hold and starting to eagerly eat their way up towards him. His hopes of it not being real were finally abandoned when his eyes began to sting and tear in response to the first thin tendrils of woodsmoke. An increasing heat gradually blossomed below him. All too fast, the smoke began to thicken, and the first of it entered his lungs as he breathed in, triggering a painful fit of coughing_. Smoke..Maybe the smoke'll kill me first, before the fire gets to work? Yeah, that'd be good. Shit it's hot, it's gettin' so hot. Gotta start takin' deep breaths, gotta breathe in the smoke, let it do the job, suck it up...Didn't really mean it like this though, did you dad? Suck it up, havta'...havta'...Oh God, Sam, baby brother...I'm scared Sammy...Please God...Not like this, please...Smoke...havta'..._

...

"We stick with the plan. I go first. Give me time to really get her attention, _then_ you go get your brother, _and_ you grab yourself a _burning branch_ from that fire. Once you've got it? Keep the damn thing burning, _do__** not**_ let it go out, understand? Then you get your pert little backsides out of this house. I assume you had a look around when you first got here? So, in front of the house, middle of the lawn...did you by any chance spot that big old willow tree? Beautiful, isn't it? Thing is, there was nothing jutting out of that well manicured lawn before our friend Hecate got the invite to jump old Ruth's bones, as it were. You need to use the branch from Hecate's own fire and set that bloody tree alight. Hecate is bound to it. Burn _it_...and you burn _her_...Right, here I go then..._Oh_, one last thing Moose..._Try_ to remember I'm going to be stuck up here doing battle with one very pissed off Goddess, will you? So I'd appreciate it if you get your side of things done quickly! Be seeing you."

...

Crowley gave Sam a wink, then opened the door just enough to allow him to slide through. As he did so, the sound of Dean, coughing and choking, reached Sam, raising his distress and fury to even greater heights. Sam fought a harsh internal war with himself in order to stop himself from ignoring Crowley and simply racing, headlong inside, in his urgency to get to his brother.

...

Hands in pockets, Crowley casually strolled into the huge space and towards Hecate whilst she stood, her back to Crowley, gleefully watching Dean's struggles. Crowley's English accent carried over both the crackling, snapping, burning wood and above Dean's body wracking persistant cough.

"Nice place...Really loving what you've done to it, sweetheart."

Hecate spun around, shock and confusion written clearly on her face.

"**_You!_** _How_...?"

"Oh, door was open love so, thought I'd pop in for a chat...Catch up on old times and all that...So, trying to warm the place up a bit are we?"

...

At the sound of Crowley's voice, Dean raised his head, a small seed of hope finding its way in to sit alongside his dread and despondency. Crowley glanced up at Dean and gave him a single, small, nod before turning his attention back to Hecate. The heat all around Dean had become intense, sweat formed on his forehead,, only to quickly dissipate again. His throat was desert dry and the hot, acrid smoke seared both his throat and his lungs at every choked breath. And then, the flames reached him. Catching hold on the bottom of his jeans, the fire flared hungrily upward, reaching up to his calves, burning it's way through the denim fabric until the terrible blistering pain convinced Dean that he had been thrown back into Hell.

...

With a scowl, Crowley glanced down at his feet, which currently hovered 18 inches off the ground. He moved his gaze to Hecate.

"Straight on to business then, is it? Well...That's fine by me, you **_pathetic, ugly, decrepit_** **_trollop!"_**

A flick of his hand sent Hecate reeling, her head snapping backwards as though she had just been punched, hard, on the jaw. Hecate staggered backward, struggling to keep her feet. Ignoring her, Crowley looked down at himself and, with a mutter of annoyance, he gracefully began to float down, back toward the sandy floor. His toes made contact with solid ground at the same time as Crowley noticed Hecate turn away from him, her attention drawn by something else. Following her gaze, Crowley couldn't stop his smirk. Hecate appeared to grow pale when she realised what she was seeing.

"_**Him**!_ **_Nooo_**...He can't have him! He can't take away my sssacrificsse, my beautiful sssacrificsse! **_Rebecca! Ssstop him_**!"

Crowley decided it was time to remind the witch of his presence.

"_Oi!_ **_Never_** turn your back on _me_, you **_ignorant_** old _**trout**_!"

Hecate screeched as a compact bolt of lightening left the end of Crowley's pointing finger and hit her in the centre of her back, forcing it to arch unnaturally. Spinning on her heels, Hecate retaliated, and Crowley found himself entangled in a stinging black web. He yelled out loud in rage and discomfort as he fought to extract himself from it's folds, unable to stop Hecate as she returned her glare to Sam's running form. Clapping both hands together, she rubbed her palms against each other in a circular motion, a deep orange glow immediately emanating out from between her fingers. Pulling her palms apart, she revealed a vibrating, pulsating ball of energy which glowed brilliant orange streaked through with thick, swirling, strands of black. Crowley recognised the deadly sphere, knew that on contact it would immediately sink into the victims body, filling them with heat and vile poison which would begin to rapidly dissolve the unfortunate recipient's internal organs. Death was never instant, and it was always agonising for the victim. Still unravelling the Scorpion Web, Crowley held his breath as Hecate aimed the toxic sphere at Sam. He watched as Sam, still running, simply held up his arm, bent at the elbow, expecting to be able to block and deflect Hecate's devastating creation. Crowley and Hecate's faces bore twin expressions of disbelief when Sam did exactly as he intended, and the sphere appeared to bounce off his arm harmlessly before fragmenting into nothing. Hecate let rip with another screeching wail of anger. Of the two of them, only Crowley spotted the slender flash of red encircling Sam's wrist. _Knot magic...gotta love it!_

"Now love...Where _were_ we my little putrescent pile of rancid offal?"

...

From the moment San heard his brother's harrowing, stomach churning roar of agony, nothing and no one else mattered. Long legs driven by adrenaline powered him across the cavern floor, running like the wind. He was vaguely aware of someone running directly into his path. It didn't matter, whoever it was, they were irrelevant. He didn't even notice how the strength of his arm, in knocking the figure out of his way, sent them flying backward through the air, didn't hear Becky's cry as she landed heavily on her side. In his peripheral vision he registered movement through the air, a swirling blur of orange and black. He didn't bother looking, he simply held up his forearm to block it as it closed in on his head. He ignored the jolt as whatever it was ricocheted back off his arm, to blink out of existence, didn't register the significance of a female's powerful scream of fury at his action. There was only one goal, one focus, and the flames and the heat and the smoke were all insignificant, nothing, _meaningless_, when compared to the love and the desperate purpose which drove him.

...

_On fire...Oh God, I'm burning, I'm burning, Alistair, please, don't...No...I won't do it. __No...I'm burning alive, on fire, I'm_ _on fire, God, help me..._

Between his cries of pain and choking sobs, Dean shook his head, refusing to agree to the demands that he heard from the figure by his side. He wouldn't, he couldn't, he had to let this happen, _Have to endure, can't say yes, never say yes...But the pain!...Suck it up, have to burn, won't give in...Wha'? Wha's happenin'? I never said yes. I didn't...Why're you lettin' me go? I didn't say yes, I swear Alistair, not said yes, not said yes...Not yet..._

...

Using the handle of Ruby's knife, Sam hammered ferociously at the chain links which joined the manacles encircling Dean's wrists to the stake. As the links broke apart, Dean began to collapse forward. Catching his half conscious brother in his arms, Sam swiftly backed off to the rear side of the pyre where the flames hadn't yet got such a hold, dragging Dean with him. Sam couldn't help but recognise that, in clambering up onto the top of the burning mound, he himself was now at risk. He needed to get them both down off here, fast. To Sam's horror, Dean began to struggle weakly, fighting against Sam's strong arms wrapped around his chest, for all the world as if he was trying to get back to the stake.

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Eeek  
_**Witches and willows**_ : Lore has that both the willow tree and the yew are sacred to witches, and that they are often bound (as in linked, not tied up!) to a particular individual tree. _**So**...does anyone remember which chapter identified the willow tree and the yew hedge in Ruth's garden? Well done if you do :D_  
__Chick xxx_


	29. Chapter 29

_A.N. So, anyone remember the willow tree in Ruth's garden being mentioned way back when? Give yourself a gold star if you did :D  
__Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 29**

_Fires and frying pans_

Hecate screamed incoherently when she spotted Sam, lit up by the orange glow of the fire, half hidden behind plumes of smoke, standing on top of the pyre. He had his arms circled around his brother's chest and he was dragging Dean backward out of the flames. She saw Becky nearby, raising herself up off the floor, moving stiffly as she struggled to get back up onto her feet. Hecate began running towards the fire, already starting to chant, giving voice to a spell.

"**_Woman! _**_I..said__**...**_NEVER...**_turn your back on.._**ME**_!"_**

Had Sam been blessed with either the opportunity or the inclination to look, he would have witnessed the bizarre sight of Crowley, standing legs apart, polished brogues planted firmly on the ground, dressed in his expensive and beautifully cut dark suit, spinning a glowing rope lasso in a circle above his head with practiced ease; and looking very much as if he were aiming to bring down a steer. With no sign of effort and perfect timing, he threw the glowing circle of magic, managing on his first release to loop the thing over Hecate's head. He immediately yanked on the loop, drawing it tight around the witch's shoulders. Then, one hand over the other, he began to drag the kicking, cursing and generally squirming creature back towards himself, a broad grin of triumph on his face. He waited until he was certain that he had drawn Hecate back far enough so that she couldn't fail to hear him.

"_We've_ not finished our little chat yet, _old girl_...I'm only _just_ starting to have fun! How about you?"

...

Ignoring his brother's attempts to fight against him, Sam slid chaotically down off the burning mound, dragging Dean along with him, managing to accidentally dislodge a good proportion of the fiercely blazing pyre on route. On both Dean's legs, the flames were by now dancing and licking up almost the whole of their length, and his legs continuously twitched and jerked in response. Ensuring that they were at a safe distance away from the now de-stabilised blazing wood fire, Sam laid Dean on the cavern's soft floor, and began madly scooping up handfuls of the silver sand, pouring the sand over Dean's legs, cutting off the fire's access to oxygen. Whilst he worked, the flames licked and flickered at the backs of his hands. Sam could smell the stench of his own hair being singed; and the flames seemed as though they were desperately trying to catch hold of Sam's clothing. Sam didn't flinch, and neither did he pause in his task until, at last, both Dean's legs were buried under heaped piles of sand, and the last of the hungry flames had died out.

...

Sam changed his position and knelt down by his brother's head. His eyebrows drew together when he noticed Deans lips continuously moving and he seemed to be whispering something repeatedly to himself. Leaning in close, Sam listened, wanting to figure out what Dean was trying to say. When Sam _did_ hear, and realised _exactly_ what his brother was whispering so repetitively, Sam really wished that he hadn't been so curious.

_"Didn't do it...Didn't say yes yet, didn't say it yet, didn't say yes, put me back, you hav'ta let me go back on the fire, I swear I didn't say it yet.."_

Sam swallowed hard, fighting to hold back tears that he simply didn't have the time for right now; he still had a job that needed doing, but, later...Well, that was later...It was _now_ that Dean needed him, needed him to stay strong, to stay focused. _Hav'ta_ _get him out, burn that freakin' tree to the ground, get_ _him to hospital, make sure he's safe, make sure he's ok, he __**has**__ to be ok. Need to finish this...C'mon big brother, it's time for you an' me to go._

Palm against Dean's cheek, Sam turned the stricken hunter's head towards him.

"Dean..._Dean_. You're ok. This' not Hell. Cas pulled you out of there..._remember_? Castiel pulled you out of Hell. _C'mon Dean_, it's me, _Sam_. I'm ok Dean, Hecate lied, the witch lied. I'm ok, but you _hav'ta_ wake up. Open your eyes Dean. It's Sammy..._Please_, look at me Dean."

...

Although at the sound of his younger brother's voice, Dean's whispering ceased, no amount of gentle cajoling from Sam could then persuade Dean to open his eyes. For a fleeting moment Sam gazed at his brother's soot smeared face, then he drew a deep breath.

"**_Winchester_**! _Open your damn eyes. You open your eyes and you __**look**__ at me...__**That's **__**an order**__!"_

Sam cringed inwardly at how much he'd managed to sound like John Winchester, but that was instantly forgotten when he saw Dean's eyes slowly flutter open. He smiled down at his brother.

"_Hey_!...Good to have you back...Do you remember where you are?"

Dean's gaze drifted away from Sam to look around at his immediate environment. When Dean saw the fire, he stared at it, the muscles throughout his body tensing at the rush of recollection washing over him.

"Quinn Bit cave...S' Quinn Bit cave."

Panic at once flared across Dean's features, and he began to try to move, to roll away from Sam.

"_Burn_...She's burnin' me. M'on fire..._Sammy_!"

Sam swiftly placed a hand against each of Dean's shoulders, holding his brother steady as he fought to reassure his distraught older brother.

"Shhhh, shhhh. I got you out...I got you out...You're _out_ of the fire Dean...Shhhh."

Sam added his own internal extension to the words he'd spoken out loud to his brother. _But we've still got the damn frying pan to get past, bro._

Green eyes opened wide, again their gaze fixing on Sam.

"_M'out_? You got me out?"

Sam nodded.

"Yeah. But we've gotta move Dean, we've gotta get outside, right outside. You're gonna have to help me Dean, you're gonna have to stand, an' you're gonna have to get downstairs with me...Understand?"

Dean's eyes never left his brother's face as he seemed to consider Sam's words. He gave a small frown.

"Ok, Sammy...M'legs heavy tho'...Feel heavy...Feel... _Funny_."

As he tried to formulate his reply, Sam noticed Dean's gaze switch, seeming to focus on something over Sam's shoulder. Still kneeling, Sam turned to see what had captured his brother's attention; and saw a red haired woman, her face twisted in anger, her hands held up in front of her, her fingers bent into claws, as she launched herself directly at Sam.

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_A.N. That's all for today, got friends coming around later so will have to pay them some attention ;p_

_Chick xxx_


	30. Chapter 30

_A.N. Oh blimey...we're so near the end, I can't believe it! What am I going to do for entertainment? * Waaaaiiiil * :)  
__Chick xxx_

* * *

**CHAPTER 30**

_Time to get out of here_

Still on his knees, Sam twisted his upper body towards the enraged woman and, using her own momentum against her, simply let her run into his readied hands and guiding the woman up over his head, adding a powerful thrust from his arms, Becky sailed through the air before again hitting the ground to lay in a sprawled tangle of her own legs and arms. By the time she had rolled, winded, onto her back, Sam was stood above her, cold eyes glaring down at her. Becky froze.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but, me and my brother are leaving...I'd advise you to stay right where you are until we've gone, or _next_ time..."

Sam turned slightly to look at the fire then returned his gaze, and gave Becky a look which left her in no doubt as to what he was threatening for _next time_.

...

Sam hurried back to Dean, aware of the sound of multiple unflattering phrases being yelled by Crowley, and punctuated by the sound of a woman screaming right back in a language Sam knew to be ancient Greek, coming somewhere from the opposite side of the cavern. Sam shook his head, Crowley would look after himself, as always.

"Dean? Dean it's me. Open your eyes again, we've got to go. You with me?"

Opening his eyes, Dean gave Sam a trusting smile.

"_Sure_...M'good."

Sam's expression was grim as he nodded and prepared to help Dean sit up. Still covered in sand, Sam had no idea what level of damage Dean's legs had suffered, but he did know that what they were about to do was going to hurt his brother. There was no choice however.

"Come on then. First step, sitting up."

...

The soft sounds Dean made told Sam that the movement had triggered the onset of discomfort and pain, and he watched as Dean fought his way through it. Sam felt both proud, and a little overawed, at Dean's sheer determination to do what Sam had asked of him. He ruffled his hand through Dean's hair and, on the spur of the moment, kissed his brother on the forehead.

"_Gerroff,_ no kissin'...Chicky flicky crap...Where's m'legs gone?"

Despite everything, Sam smiled, realising that Dean couldn't see his own legs, covered as they were by sand. Sam turned Dean's head towards him and looked at his brother seriously.

"Dean...You were in the fire, remember...?"

Dean looked at Sam in amazement.

"M'legs got burned off?"

Sam smiled again, his eyes glistening wet.

"_No_...No. But we have to stand you up and then we've got to get out of here, down the stairs. Dean...This is going to hurt. Your legs are injured, I don't know how bad...But, we have to do this, _you and me_...Ok?"

" I can help."

...

Sam was startled by the voice from behind him. Turning, he found the red haired woman standing, her eyes on Dean.

"Who are you lady, and _why_ would you want to help us suddenly?

The woman switched her gaze to Sam.

"I'm Becky and...I think maybe it was wrong, you know? Putting Dean up there, doing what me and my Mistress did. I don't think it was right. So, I'll help. I can help to get Dean out...I...I _want_ to help..._I think_."

Sam was taken aback and he stared wide eyed at the woman.

"Becky? Barbara's _friend_ Becky?"

Becky looked thoughtful.

"Barbara?...I know her...I know Barbara, don't I?"

"She's your friend Becky. She asked us to come here to find you. Hecate's not your mistress, she's a _monster_. You're coming with us Becky, we're _all_ gonna get out, together."

...

Sam tried to block out the noises Dean made, the sight of the tears rolling down Dean's face, as he and Becky raised the hunter to his feet. His stomach heaved at his first sight of the burns covering both Dean's legs; blackened patches of skin sat amongst blistered and scarlet areas and parts where the fabric of Dean's jeans had melded into his flesh. Sam realised the pain must almost be intolerable, yet _still_ Dean did his best to take a proportion of his own weight, shuffling his feet along, moving as quickly as his injuries would allow. Sam re-positioned himself to relieve Becky from helping support his brother. He nodded his head to the fire.

"Becky, we need a branch from the fire, one that will keep burning, we need it for when we get outside. Can you get one for me? Make sure it's big enough and that we can carry it safely, ok?"

Becky scurried over to the fire, hesitating when she heard her mistress scream out in pain, before returning her attention to her quest. Sam held out one hand when Backy scampered back, happily clutching a fairly thick branch that had only caught light at one end. Sam smiled his thanks as he took it from her, and Becky re-positioned herself by Dean's side. The three of them then returning to their endeavour.

...

Crowley hauled himself up off the cavern floor and began to dust himself down under Hecate's hate filled glare. Looking back up at the witch, he was relieved at last to notice that, some way behind Hecate, Sam, apparently assisted by Hecate's familiar, was exiting the cavern. He spotted Dean, head bowed, hanging between the pair. A satisfied smile crept on to his face, and Crowley now gave Hecate his full attention.

"You know...I don't mind admitting, that one hurt, a _little_. But I'm get the feeling that you're not at your peak tonight, love. _Oh_...wait! Ahhh yes...Full moon tonight...Diana's time, not so much yours, is it? So called _Goddess of the Dark moon_?

Breathing heavily, Hecate narrowed her eyes.

"I sssstill have power enough to quasssh _you_, little man. I assssure you, it matters _not_ that it is my ssssisster's phase. _You_! You are a mere deal maker...A lowly, sssstinking demon of the crosssssroads; whereas I? I am the _Guardian _of those crossssroads, and _you _ssshall kneel down before me!"

As she spoke, Hecate pointed at Crowley and, at the same time as she was finishing her little speech, she lowered her finger slowly, until it pointed to the ground at Crowley's feet. She frowned when Crowley remained stood, busily straightening the cuffs of his shirt.

"_I ordered you to __**kneel**__ demon_!"

Satisfied that his appearance was back in order, Crowley finally looked up at the witch, his expression a study in surprised innocence.

"_Oh_...I assssssssssume you didn't get the memo my dear?"

Hecate looked furious.

"What is thissss? What riddle do you sssspeak?"

"I'll keep this simple, shall I my delusional friend? A vacancy arose, and I took the job. _You_...you **_tragic waste of my time_**...are looking at the new **_King of Hell_**. **_Sssssssurprise_**! Now, if **_you _**would like to kneel down at **_my _**feet then, _please_...**_Go_** **_right ahead!_**"

Hecate howled as, through no desire of her own, she found herself irrevocably sinking to her knees. Crowley feigned surprise.

"Why!...How good of you to recognise my new status. Now, let's finish this, _shall_ _we_?"

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	31. Chapter 31

_A.N. Would you believe it? This is the penultimate chapter! So that leaves just one more and the epilogue. Gawd, I'm going to miss you! :(_

* * *

**CHAPTER 31**

_The stubborn determination of Dean._

In different ways, the journey along corridors and down the flights of stairs was a torturous one for both Sam and Dean. For Dean, it was the sheer gut wrenching physical agony, for Sam it was the emotionally heartbreaking sounds of his brothers cries. The attic stairs were altogether too narrow to accommodate two people side by side, so with Sam in front walking backwards down the stairs, and Becky following on behind holding the burning branch, Dean was positioned between them, haltingly shuffling his way down the stairs whilst sat on his butt. Twice, on that single flight of stairs, he came to a stop, fighting to remain conscious. On both occasions it was Sam, talking to him, reassuring him, barking orders at him, which kept Dean going. And at every stair successfully negotiated, Sam was there again, praising Dean, saying _well done_, telling Dean how proud he was of him; until Dean's only goal was complete the journey, and thereby repay his brother's faith in him.

...

Throughout it all, Becky stayed silent, watching, wondering. _What must it be like? To love someone that much? Would the Mistress ever do that for me? Would she stay with me if I was hurt? Wait for me? Or...?_

...

By the time the threesome had made it down the second flight of stairs, Dean was drifting more and more frequently, blood and the clear fluid from burst blisters intermingled, washing down Dean's legs, and he was now openly sobbing at the pain and the stinging burn of his wounds. Sam forced him stop for a while, sitting on the bottom most step. He knew that he couldn't continue to allow Dean to push himself like this. Squatting down in front of his brother, he tilted Dean's up, looking sadly at the clean streaks trailing through the soot and dirt on his brother's face, created by his tears. He saw how hard Dean had to work, just to keep his eyes focused on Sam's face.

"I'm _so_ proud of you Dean...But...You've done enough. It's time for me to carry you now brother, ok?"

"_Nooo_...C'n do this, I c'n do it...Jus'...It hurts Sammy, hurts...N' I'm tired, wanna sleep, wanna sleep _so_ bad S'm..."

As Dean's eyes closed, Sam moved towards him.

"Ok big brother, that's _it_...Time for a piggy back ride, sleepy head."

As Sam readied himself and Dean, he began a murmured litany of apologies and reassurances whilst, as gently as he was able, he picked Dean up in a fireman's lift, being careful where his arm encircled Dean's legs. Initially Dean moaned, but very soon, he fell silent. Sam had to force himself not to keep staring at his brothers wounds, given that they were now so clearly in his line of sight. He turned to Becky.

"Right, let's do this. Don't let that thing go out will you? Whatever happens. Ready?"

At Becky's nod, the small troop set off once more, although this time Sam and Becky were able to maintain a much faster pace.

...

Without removing Dean from his shoulder, Sam reached out to open the front door to the house.

"_Shit_...locked...Ok...Not a problem, just need to be subtle about it! Becky...Waistband, back of my jeans, there's a gun. Get it for me?"

Moving the back of Sam's jacket aside, Becky removed the Taurus. She began turning the gun over in her hand, mesmerised by it's look, by it's feel, and by the knowledge of what it was capable of doing...

"_Becky_?"

Becky raised her head to find Sam standing, watching her, his free hand held out to her, waiting for her to give up the weapon whilst he steadily held on to his precious cargo. Becky looked again at the gun she held, and slowly licked her lips. Sam's voice, soft now, deliberate, once again cut through her contemplations.

"Becky...Give me the gun Becky. Give me the gun and we're all free, we can all go home...Barbara's waiting for you Becky. She wants you to come home. I need you to give me the gun now Becky."

Becky frowned in confusion.

"Barbara?...I know her...I know Barbara, don't I?"

Sam nodded at Becky's repeated statement from earlier, acutely aware that, right at that moment, Becky was, potentially, a very dangerous woman and an immediate threat to both himself and Dean. Still holding out his had, he gave Becky an encouraging smile and maintained his very deliberate, rhythmic speech pattern.

"That's _right_ Becky. You _know_ Barbara. She's your friend Becky...Your _best_ friend. She sent us to find you, remember? She misses you Becky. Barbara _misses you,_ and she's worried about you. _Barbara_ wants you to give me the gun now Becky...Give me the gun so we can all go show Barbara that you're ok Becky. Barbara's waiting to see you sweetheart. She misses you. Barbara wants to look after you Becky...Your friend wants you to come home."

Sam released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding as hesitantly, and seemingly now confused as to why she was holding a gun in the first place, Becky finally relinquished it to him.

...

Sam took aim and fired the gun twice at the wooden door, wrecking the area around where the lock was situated. A firm kick from his foot, and at _last_ he was looking at the moonlit front lawn and, at it's centre, a glorious, arching, willow tree; the tree to which Hecate was bonded.

...

With Dean still quiet in Sam's hold, Sam descended the steps leading from the front door and turned, walking to the front wall of the house. He slowly eased his brother off his shoulder and with ultimate care, sat Dean down on the path, ensuring his back was supported against the wall. Shrugging his jacket off, he laid it gently over his brother's legs, protecting them both from the elements, and from Dean's sight should he awake whilst Sam wasn't by his side. That done Sam turned, and was surprised to find that Becky wasn't with him. Glancing around, he spotted her, still standing just inside the front door, clutching the burning branch in her hands whilst she observed Sam's care of Dean. Concerned, Sam strode back across to her.

"Becky? What're you doin'?"

Sad brown eyes gazed at Sam.

"I can't leave...the _Mistress_, she won't let me. There's something..._Something_ stopping me. I tried. I tried to come with you, to help you, but I can't get outside...Here, take the branch, you take it. I...I think I have to stay in here."

Reluctantly Sam nodded his understanding, and reached forward to take the branch from the woman's grasp, a knot of anxiety forming when he saw how much smaller the quietly flickering flames were now burning.

"It's ok Becky. You'll be able to leave soon, _I promise_. You just need to stay there. _Don't_ go back upstairs. Wait right there, just wait, will you? There's something I've got to do, but after, you'll be able to come outside. You'll be able to go home, I swear."

Becky gave Sam a weak smile of agreement, and watched with curiosity whilst Sam, carrying the branch, walked purposefully toward the old willow tree. She turned her gaze away from Sam to glance up at the sky when, seemingly out of nowhere, a sudden breeze kicked up and began to swirl around the garden...

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_A.N. Final chapter up soon :o  
Chick xxx_


	32. Chapter 32

_A.N. And now (la la) the end is near (la la) and so I post (la la) my final chapterrrr :D_

_(Epilogue coming out later tonight)_

* * *

**CHAPTER 32**

_Challenging Crowley_

The last of the fire's flames had flickered and died, the only part now remaining being the faint glow of fizzling embers at the very heart of the remains. Standing and staring into it's centre, Crowley was whistling to himself cheerily, it was a song from an old musical, where the actor dances and splashes his way along a rain drenched street. It was a little known fact that Crowley _himself_ was quite light on his feet and was able to perform a _very_ passable soft shoe shuffle.

"Well now...I think that should do it quite nicely."

Letting down his umbrella, he gave it a good shake before then folding it back up very precisely. That done, he tossed it up into the air, watching it vanish with a soft _pfffft_. He glanced at his watch with a sigh.

"Come on boys...Things to do, places to be, demons to discipline. Busy, busy, busy!"

"You ssshall not win Deal Maker, thisss I promissssse you. You _and_ the two humans who do your bidding."

A smile blossomed on Crowley's face, turning away from the fire he casually strolled over to where a soaking wet and extremely bedraggled looking Hecate was pinned helplessly against the cavern wall. Footprints left in the wet sand traced his path.

"Awake again old girl? Good, I was getting bored waiting alone."

"Waiting? For _what_ Deal Maker?"

"Erm...To watch you be destroyed of course!"

Despite how Crowley had her pinned, Hecate somehow still managed to look prideful as she glared intently at the man before her.

"I cannot be desssstroyed fool, ccssertainly not by the hands of your pet humans."

"Hmm...I agree the Winchester boys are _many_ things, a bloody nuisance for example! The twin thorns in my side, the two people I _most_ want to see wiped of the face of this earth; but, they are _not_ my pets. You've got that one completely wrong dear. They're entirely independent operators..._Actually_, that's possibly one of the things about them that makes them so damn irritating!"

Hecate's eyes narrowed.

"Winchesssster? Thissss is their true family name?

Having no vested interest in the two hunters beyond their current agreement, Crowley saw no reason to lie.

"Yes. Dean, the eldest, and Sam Winchester. Heard of them, have you?"

Crowley's curiosity was raised when he saw the shadow of a smile flutter cross the witch's face.

"No. I had not."

"Care to share the joke?"

Hecate gave Crowley a thoughtful look, and her smile returned before she answered.

"If the elder lives, he ssshould sssstay wary of the younger. I sssshall ssspeak of it no more."

Crowley glanced at his watch again.

"Yes...Well...Shouldn't be much longer and you won't be speaking at _all,_ but...Don't you worry your pretty little head, Hades will be sssssssssafe in my hands."

Hecate began to howl in outrage and helplessness.

...

Striding determinedly toward the willow tree, a breeze began to ruffle through Sam's hair. His initial reaction was panic and he glanced up to the top part of the branch he was clutching. His panic subsided, to be replaced with renewed determination when it was obvious that the breeze was actually helping to re-ignite and increase both the area of burning and the size of the flames flaring up from the branch. Dipping under the arching fronds of the willow's branches, Sam squatted down at the base of the willow tree's trunk, and touched the burning branch against it. Expecting it to be difficult to persuade any part of the willow to catch light, he jumped, startled, when the flame of Hecate's fire seemed to change and become something close to a living, sentient beast. Hecate's fire blazed with a new intensity and all but leapt onto Hecate's tree, flames immediately coiling themselves loving around, and up, the tree's thick trunk, establishing themselves quickly. Backing away, Sam emerged from under the tree and began to walk around outside the area of it's spread, methodically touching the burning branch to the ends of some of the slender, trailing branches of the willow. Again the fire appeared eager to embrace Hecate's tree. Satisfied, Sam tossed his branch back under the willow to lay at the base of the trunk before he stepped back and took a moment to watch the flames dance higher and brighter up and around the willow.

...

Turning, he looked towards Becky who was still where he had left her, stood back from the threshold of the entrance door. Smiling, he held his hand out to her, inviting the woman to step outside. He watched whilst Becky delicately stretched forward one foot, testing, feeling for the barrier which had previously been there for her. She looked up at Sam in happy amazement as she placed her foot over the threshold, with nothing halting her progress. Sam grinned as Becky finally walked out of the house and into the night air, then jogged back to his brother.

...

Hecate's howls of indignation suddenly cut short and she looked down at herself fearfully, before raising her head to stare at Crowley.

"Oh dear, what's wrong? You don't look your usual happy cheerful self. Hot flush is it?"

The red of Hecate's eyes began to change, flaring through dark red, to scarlet, to laser brilliance. Her words were spat out at Crowley as supernatural flames erupted at her feet and began rapidly spreading up her body.

"**_Thisssss isssss not finisssssshed_**!"

...

Crowley gazed at the empty space where Hecate had once been then, with a shrug of his shoulders and a snap of his fingers, he too disappeared.

...

Kneeling down at Dean's side, Sam was surprised to find Dean conscious, his eyes fixed on the blazing willow. Sam moved to sit himself next to Dean. Draping his arm across Dean's shoulders, he carefully encouraged Dean to lean into him.

"How you doin'?"

Dean maintained his focus on the fire.

"You set fire to tha' tree."

Sam glanced at his handy work and nodded.

"That I did."

Dean turned, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Why?"

"To kill the wicked bitch."

"Oh...She dead now?"

" I very much hope so."

Dean laid his head against his brother's chest, his eyes once again beginning to flutter closed. He mewled quietly as Sam moved slightly, extracting his cell phone.

"S'alright Dean, I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting you a fast ride to the hospital is all."

...

"No need...Put your phone away Moose...Although, I _know_ I'm very much going to regret this later when I give myself time to think about it._ Cute_ by the way...You two, sat cuddling. I'm very tempted to take a picture, purely as a visual obviously...Show my troops what _fluffy wuffy_ little hunters you two really are. Am I right in assuming you'd _like_ Humpty Dumpty here putting back together?"

Sam looked up suspiciously at Crowley.

"What's it gonna cost?"

Crowley held his hands up, palms facing Sam.

"All part the original Deal. Besides, I've got Hades...I'm feeling generous."

Sam coughed politely.

"Erm, yeah...About that."

Crowley narrowed his eyes

"_Please_...Don't make my happy face go away."

"There's some good souls down there Crowley. I want you to give them the chance to leave and, you know, help them on their way."

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Anything else I can do for you boys whilst I'm at it? I dunno, bake you a _thank you_ cake? Send you a fruit basket?...**_Fine..._**_Ok_? Now, lets take a look at Sleeping Beauty here."

...

The first thing Dean saw when his eyes opened, was his brother's face grinning at him like an idiot.

"Sammy?"

"Hi...You're ok Dean, you're ok! Your legs I mean. They're fine! 'Course, you'll need new jeans, and probably boots, but..._You're ok_! Crowley fixed you up."

"_Crowley_! Why?"

The King of Hell stepped into Dean's line of sight, looking pleased with himself.

"_All_ part of the service."

Dean began to stand himself upright, a scowl on his face.

"Service? **_Service?_**_"_

Worried, Sam hovered as Dean drew himself up to his full height and planted himself well and truly in Crowley's personal space, his voice a growl.

"After _everything_ Sam and me have gone through? Where the _fuck_ do you get off thinking you've done us a damn **_service_**?"

Sam stepped in, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder, intending to pull his furious brother back from Crowley. Dean simply gave his shoulder a jerk, shrugging Sam's hand off.

"NO Sam."

Dean continued to be in Crowley's face, hard eyes glaring down at the shorter man.

"**_None _**of this had to happen Sam...Because _this_ little_ shit_ already knew! **_Didn't you_**? People have been _hurt_. People have DIED, you conniving little bastard. **_Why_**?...Why didn't you just tell us, _right back at the start_, all we needed do was set_ light_ to the _freakin' tree_? Oh..._Wait a minute_! Let's _think_...It wouldn't by any chance have anthin' to do with you wantin' to get your grubby little Hell claws on HADES...**_Would it_**?"

As caught up as Dean was in his own rage, he didn't notice the dangerous look which was rapidly developing on Crowley's face. Sam, however, did. This time he was ready for his brother and he grabbed him firmly from behind, one hand gripped around each of Dean's upper arms, and forcibly yanked him back, away from Crowley. Whilst Dean struggled to shrug himself out of Sam's grasp again, Crowley took the opportunity to answer Dean's accusations and, whilst Dean's voice had been an angry growl; Crowley's, at first, was nothing more than a soft whisper on the wind, and yet it carried clearly across to both hunters.

"I take it that it's my turn now? Good..._First_, it appears that I need to remind you boys about the facts of life. **_I_** don't _like_ you...**_I_** am not your _friend_...**_I_** don't do _favours_...**I**, _lest we forget_, am the **_King of Hell_**_..._Ringing any bells yet_?__** I**__ use _people and_ that_, my dears, includes **_you two clowns_**_. _So, see if your **_tiny_** brains can figure _this_ one out..._Why_, by all that is foul, would I **_ever_** come trotting upstairs just to see how you're doing, and whether I can make anything all better for you? We made a deal, I've _more_ than held my end up. There was no fine print that stipulated no-one must die or get hurt Also, you _might_ want to reflect on this...It wasn't as simple, _was it_, as just setting light to the tree? You needed fire _created _by Hecate to do it. So..._Tell_ _me_...How **_were_** the pair of you doing before the Moose here called on me for my help?"

There was a short period within which Dean and Crowley simply locked eyes, and where Sam still didn't feel he could trust Dean enough to let go his hold on him.

...

It was Crowley who seemed to calm down again the quickest, and he gave both brothers a smile whilst he straightened his tie.

"_Right then_...Now we have a happy ending all round, it's time I bobbed off. New property to inspect and all..._Oh_, and some souls to release, apparently. I'm certain I'll be seeing _you_ two again. Just remember though, for future reference, the _only_ side I'm on...**_Is mine_**!"

Dean continued to glare impotently at the empty spot where Crowley had, until so recently, been standing.

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

_A.N. Ok people, nothing left but the epilogue now. Hope you can stick with it till then?_

_Chick xxx_


	33. Epilogue

_A.N. The last bit, _finally, _although I have really had fun writing this fic! _

_This final part is _dedicated to the following_ who have kept me going, kept me laughing and __**certainly**__ kept me busy with their regular reviews and comments. They also made sure I hit my first 100 (Yay). _

**_Thanks guys_**_...Truthfully? I'm going to miss you __lot even more than I'll miss writing the story!_

SPNxBookworm, gr8read, babyreaper, DearHart, flygirl33, ccase13, Karebear119, SPN Mum, Newt-s3, Delena4Nian50,

lilliannaelizabeth_ and _especially **mb64** _who has taken the time to advise_ _on cock ups and spelling mistakes. You've ALL been __**awesome**__!_

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

With Becky's help Sam and Dean carefully searched the whole of the house, but aside from the three bodies in the cellar, and the body of Sandra, there was no sign of Ruth. When Sam opened the door to the cavern, that too was gone, leaving behind an empty, dusty attic room. The two hunters took the time to wipe down what they could of the rooms they themselves had been, in the hopes that nothing would be left that could be traced back to them. By the time they had finished, all three were exhausted, and dawn was sneaking over the horizon. Dean felt he'd had enough.

"Come on. Lets get out of here."

Sam nodded.

"No arguments from me on that one. Becky? You feel ready to go home?"

Becky looked sadly at the two hunters.

"Honestly? No...I don't really feel like being alone."

Sam put his arm around her.

"I get that...What about Barbara? Why not stay with her? At least you can talk to her about what you've been through _without_ sounding like a crazy woman! Look, I've got to call to a friend of ours, let him know we're ok, and Barbara made me promise to ring her, pretty much for the same reason. You could talk to her then? Don't forget, _you're_ the reason she got me an' Dean to come here anyway...Ok?"

Becky gave a weak smile,

"Ok."

Dean sighed.

"You two done yet? I'd like to be gone so I can put a call in to the local cops...Let them come an' look after Sandra."

...

It was Becky who stepped out of the house first, instantly she ground to a halt so suddenly that Dean couldn't avoid colliding into her.

"Look!"

All three stood on the edge of the front lawn, it was a perfectly manicured front lawn, where there had obviously _never_ been a willow tree growing, nor had there _ever_ been a tree on fire. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Sam bumped Dean.

"Guess this means she's really gone?"

"I guess so, baby brother."

...

Crowley sat behind his desk, his feet up, resting on it's polished surface, a fresh cup of tea within reach. He was smiling to himself, as he flicked through a fairly small, but clearly old, book which was very simply covered, in plain black leather. Occasionally he would read something that made him _Tsk_, or that broadened his smile further.

"Oh, now, that _is_ a good one!,.,.,.,,.,..My, my...You naughty old girl, where _did_ you find _that_ one?,.,.,.,..,...,_Ahh_...I can see _this_ one very quickly becoming a favourite..."

...

Whilst saddened and upset by the news of Sandra's death and Ruth's disappearance, Barbara couldn't contain her joy at knowing that her best friend had been returned to her and, very quickly, Barbara set off on her way home. Dean was left to hang around and wait for her, whilst Sam drove Becky to her own house to pick up some belongings, before returning to stay with Barbara. Sam parked on the driveway, then looked at the woman by his side.

"Are you ok?...Or do you want me to come inside with you?

Becky hesitated, then shook her head.

"No...Thank you. I think I should do this alone but, I'll leave the front door open, just in case..."

Sam watched briefly as Becky began to walk up to the house then, with a sigh, he rested his head against the back of the driver's seat. Exhausted and weary, he let his eyes close whilst he waited.

...

Following the edge of the lawn as she headed to her front door, Becky eyes were drawn to the graceful weeping willow sited in the centre of the neat grassed area. Turning away again, she stopped in front of her door, and gazed at the lock.

"No keys?...No problem."

In response to a small wave of one hand, the lock clicked open. Stepping inside, she glanced around. Uncaring about the pervasive smell of rotten meat, she smiled.

"This will do_ very _nicely."

Turning, she propped the front door open wide, and glanced again at the solitary willow tree. Had Sam been watching, he might have had the very good fortune to notice the sudden flare of red in Becky's eyes, but Sam's _own_ eyes were still closed. Becky turned her attention back into the house.

"Yesssss...This sssshall do very nicsssssely _indeed_!"

...

Having spent most of the day with Barbara and Becky, during which time Sam and Dean had been able to link up what had happened to each of them, the brothers were both relieved to be finally sat in the Impala and back on the road. Dean glanced over at Sam who was pouring over a road map.

"You still not figured how long it's gonna take to get to Bobby's yet? You _do_ know you're supposed to be the brainy one, don't you?"

Sam casually gave his brother the finger without looking up.

"Depends how many times _you_ decide you need to stop an' eat! If we're lookin' at a couple of stops, we should be there in around six hours."

Dean nodded and, for a while, the pair sat in silence. Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to break the silence.

"Look, er...You went through a lot back there dude, you know, when you came to get me and...Well...Thanks. Ok?

Dean carried on, studiously ignoring Sam's grin.

"I mean it. You were there an'...Thanks..._Really_."

Sam put his hand to his ear and leaned a little closer to Dean.

"Sorry? Didn't hear any of that. Can you say it all again?"

Smiling, Dean cuffed Sam across the back of his head.

"Screw you!"

Sam turned in his seat, looking at Dean with a serious expression on his face.

"You're my brother...You tell me, where else was I goin' to be Dean?"

Dean glanced at Sam again, before turning his eyes back to the road with a nod. Smiling again, Sam settled back down in his seat and stared out of the car window, watching fields flash by. Eventually Dean broke the silence again.

"So, er. When you called Bobby...You told him we didn't get the book?"

"Hell no! I've left that for you."

"What? Why?"

"Why not?"

"Well, it's not like I'm the one who had the opportunity to get my mits on it is it? You know, being stuck on top of a _bonfire_ an' everything!"

"Oh...I_ see_. 'Cos I was goin' to have a _much_ better chance of finding it down in that damn cellar!"

"Put it this way, one of us gotta tell the old man, an' it ain't gonna be me!"

Gleaming in the sunlight, the Impala swept along the highway talking it's occupants closer to the man who was their second father; and still the debate went on about just who was going to be the poor sap who told Bobby Singer that they hadn't got Hecate's little black book for him...

**FIN.**

**xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx**

Chick xxx


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